The Null Code
by The King of Ravens
Summary: Inducted into the retinue of Inquisitor Julion because of a chance encounter, Samias is whisked from the undercity of Hive Enchellus into a heretical plot that threatens the whole Karvonis system and beyond. Partnered with the unsettling Interrogator Aurelius, the two must put aside their differences in order to confront the threat hiding within the Imperium itself.
1. The Grace of Saint Elestra

**I haven't ever tried my hand at Warhammer 40K fanfiction before, but I have been an avid follower of its lore for years and I've had this idea for a story brewing for a while. Feedback is appreciated as always, and I hope that you enjoy.**

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 _Hive Enchellus, Karvonis IV – 999.956M41_

The pouring rain failed to drown out the sound of gunfire echoing through the undercity streets. Heart pounding in his chest and head, Samias sprinted through the sodden, sprawling alleyways. Gang violence was no special occurrence in the lower districts of Hive Enchellus, but since the Adeptus Arbites's withdrawal from the Elestra region the bloodshed had only increased.

Samias rounded a grey corner, skidding to a halt and leaning against the greystone wall of a windowless house. Legs aching and panting for breath, the boy grasped onto the pistol strapped at his waist, fingers slick with sweat and rainwater curling round the handle of the weapon.

It had only supposed to be a routine trip for supplies – he and two friends had been dispatched to secure the ammunition smuggled out of the close-by Munitorum factorium by one of the Chrome Fangs's regular dealers, but no sooner had they even entered the neighbourhood they were greeted by a firefight unfolding in the downpour.

 _Breathe,_ he told himself, repeating it like a mantra as he tried to get his shaky inhalations back under control.

Clearly the big-time gangs had decided to expand their influence over the more middling districts of the hive. Before he and his fellow Chrome Fangs members had been forced to run for their lives, the adolescent had caught a glimpse of a crimson spiralling eye sigil daubed onto one of the hive thug's coats. That meant the Red Eye had arrived to fill the vacuum left by the departing Arbites.

Samias was born and bred in the undercity, was no stranger to violence and had scraped his way through many rough fights. But the sight of the Red Eye had made his blood run cold. Famed for their brutal, merciless methods even amongst a sea of violent gangs, the Red Eye had the largest share of the hive undercity to call their own.

It was a badly kept secret that because of that and the psychoactive Red-EX drugs (the side effects of which were the source of the gang's name) they exported to the upper levels, the Arbites let them have free reign of the lower city.

 _Dumb pigs never did anything for us anyway._

The Chrome Fangs had thankfully only had a single run in with the Red Eye, a perk of being a smaller gang in the upper reaches of the undercity. But if they were here in Elestra district some form of confrontation was inevitable. Besides, Samias had his own reasons for despising the opposing gang.

"Shit, Sam. You saw them right?! Fucking Red Eyes are here!"

Absorbed in the rhythm of his adrenalized heartbeat crashing around in his skull, Sam didn't even hear the approach of his friend. His pistol was out and aimed before he could even think.

"Fuck me!" the other boy in front of him yelled, flinching back from the weapon. Samias flashed a grim but apologetic smile, lowering the gun as Michael punched him hard in the shoulder, hissing, "thought you were about to blow my fucking brains out there mate."

"Sorry Mikey," Samias replied tersely, his friend's swearing as obvious an indication of his terror as his own sloppy reactions were.

Shorter than Samias by a head, the youth's dirty silver hair stuck to his face in the rain, and despite his fear he still found it in him to flash finger-guns at Samias – his actual pistol still holstered at his waist. Samias wondered how his friend could see with all of the hair over his eyes but decided that now was not the time to point it out.

"It's okay," the gangly teen slapped his bulkier friend's arm once again, before his face tensed up. "Wait … where the fuck's Val? I thought she went with you?"

Truth be told, when Samias had first locked eyes with the Red Eye member as they opened fire and began his panicked repeat, he hadn't paid much attention to what his friends had been doing – too busy avoiding the hail of gunfire that had been sent his way.

"Sam? Sam!" Michael prompted quickly, his voice a higher pitch than it usually was. Samias didn't know how to answer his friend. Instead, his eyes wandered, taking in the street-corner house he had decided to use as an impromptu hiding place. He hoped, perhaps fancifully, that whoever lived here had got out when the Arbites decided to abandon the district.

"Emperor's arse, she's still back there isn't she? Fuck. Shit! What are going to do?" Michael almost babbled, shaking Sam's arm. The other boy snapped back into focus, gripping his friend's bony shoulder tightly, probably too tightly.

"You need to calm down," he told him, wishing he could heed his own advice. But with Mikey in a state of panic that left Sam to be the one who had to take charge.

"Calm down? Did you not see the Red Eyes killing those people? Shit, Sam. They're gonna do the same to Val, and then to- "

"SHH!" Samias growled, hoping he was intimidating enough to shut Michael up for a few seconds. The noise of gunfire cut through the downpour, and Sam willed the pounding in his head to quieten so that he could focus.

The eighteen (solar) year old had always possessed a talent for hearing, honed through years of listening for the skittering pattering of sump-rats in the factorium dump wastelands of the undercity. With his friend thankfully as silent as he could be, Sam was able to identify the source of the shots.

He could hear several overlapping staccato cadences signifying autogun shots pierced with the fizzing sizzle of lasweapons in the rain originating approximately south-west from their position. The boy frowned as an unfamiliar _click_ was followed by a whooshing _boom_ cut through the rest of the gunfire's song, too quiet to be a heavy weapon but undeniably explosive in nature. Whatever weapon this Red Eye had got their hands on wouldn't bode well for whoever had chosen to resist their encroachment on the district, that was for sure.

"Val's gotta be that way," Samias pointed, hoping that the girl hadn't met the same fate as the first victims of the Red Eye's expansion. He turned back to Mikey, who looked remarkably more composed now that they had been out of immediate danger for a few moments, and adopted a more authoritarian tone as he said: "You're gonna have to go back to base, tell the Chief and the others about these Red Eye bastards."

"Nu-uh," Michael shook his head vehemently, droplets spilling from his soaking hair. "There's no way I'm leaving you to go back for Val alone."

Samias let the smile he felt play on his lips for a few seconds before returning to his previous stony expression. Honestly, he was glad that his friend had affirmed that, because whilst he cared for Michael's safety and was worried about how the other boy would act in a firefight the thought of going back alone to face Emperor-knew how many Red Eye brutes chilled him to the core.

The boy clutched at the crude Aquila pendant in his pocket with his free hand. That, aside from the pistol, was the only thing he had left to remember his mother by.

"Come on then. Stay low, be careful. Even if you see Val, don't go running towards her," Samias cautioned, Michael making a show of rolling his eyes even if he appreciated the grounding advice.

Sam took a moment to check that the street they had both ran from was clear of foes, before motioning that it was safe to continue. The two boys were bereft of any weaponry aside from pistols – which weren't even autopistols - and any form of protection – as the latter were emblazoned with Chrome Fang insignia and this was supposed to have been a simple transaction where they wanted to avoid any recognition as gang members.

They stuck low to the ground, skulking through the empty streets of the district as the volume of the gunfire gradually increased. The people who lived here had wisely decided to shutter their few windows and lock up, leaving the hab-block deserted.

Samias knew that they were approaching the Elestra district's main square, which is what they had been about to pass through towards their ammunitions dealer before they witnessed the Red Eyes executing some poor men and women for an unknown reason. He held up his hand, signalling for Michael to stop, and leaned round the corner of the

Befitting its status as a lower district of the hive yet one out of the underhive, Elestra's central square was modestly sized, with a verdigris-withered statue of the eponymous Saint overlooking what would normally have been a densely crowded area leading towards the district's Administratum building.

The effigy was currently in use for a reason other than worship, a lithe figure crouched behind its base as autogun rounds impacted into the copper statue above, Elestra's benevolent expression adorned with bullet holes from some poorly aimed shots.

Samias swept his gaze across the entire scene, taking extreme care not to be noticed from his rather exposed position by any of the members of the firefight, trying to see if he could find Val pinned down in any of the sparse cover within the square.

"Who are those brave fuckers fighting the Red Eyes?" Michael breathed out, and Samias stopped searching for the third Chrome Fang for a moment to properly examine those who seemed to going toe to toe with the most vicious gang in the hive.

There was four of them from what he could see, including the one pinned behind the Saint's statue. All of them seemed distinctly unremarkable for the situation they were in, clad in grey fatigues not unlike those habitually worn by the manufactorum workforce of the district. If not for the weaponry that they were sporting and the very clear combat competence as they ducked and weaved out of cover to launch shots at their opponents, Samias could have easily mistaken the group for normal hivers.

"Who knows?" he whispered in reply, watching as one of the group leaned out of the wall he had taken cover behind to fire at a particularly brazen Red Eye that had made the foolish choice to advance on the man's position. Samias watched with a mixture of awe and horror as the unfamiliar _bang_ of the large pistol's discharge was proceeded by the ganger's chest evaporating into a crimson mist, arms still gripping the woman's autogun crashing to the ground.

He'd never witnessed a bolt pistol in action before. Such weapons were reserved for the elites of either the biggest gangs or the bodyguards of highspire aristocrats. He had to push down the tendrils of revulsion coiling in his gut, Mikey's shocked intake of breath telling him that the other boy felt the same about the weapon's sheer capability for violence.

Another grey-clad man unclipped what was clearly a military grade frag grenade from his belt, tossing it towards where the Red Eye ranks were hunkered behind a Administratum supply truck. They scattered, the explosion itself outran by the gangers but the resulting shrapnel shredding the bodies of those too slow or unlucky to avoid it. Though the grenade itself didn't cause many casualties, its true purpose soon became evident – freeing up the woman trapped behind the district's resident Saint from the pinning volleys and allowing her to lay down a punishing storm of las-fire on the regrouping Red Eyes.

"Emperor above. Are they actually taking on a full fucking squad of Red Eyes with just four people?" Michael exclaimed in hushed tones, disbelief streaking his frightened voice. Samias forced himself to tear his eyes away from the unfolding confrontation, gaze skipping across the firefight to where a familiar figure was huddled behind a wall on the other side of the square.

In spite of his stern orders to Michael only moments ago, it took all of the willpower Samias had not to burst out from their vantage point and hurl himself towards Valeria. He was unbelievably glad that she was unharmed, but at the same time she was in the centre of the danger.

He elbowed his friend and motioned at the other Chrome Fang, Michael's initial relieved exhalation followed by a string of colourful expletives when he realised how far away the girl was.

Val had spotted them in turn, the fear in her eyes coloured with no small amount of anger – both at the Red Eyes themselves and at her friends for running off without her when they first encountered them. Understandably, she had done as little as possible to attract attention to herself, though that also meant that as the Red Eyes had advanced across the square they were perilously close to her position.

For once, Mikey didn't voice the burning question: how the name of the holy Emperor were they going to get her out of there?

Val was gesturing towards something as wildly as she could whilst still remaining crouched behind her cover. Samias frowned, glancing towards where Val was pointing, before his eyes widened again. From an alleyway that led into the courtyard through its western side, Sam could see at least six more Red Eye men clad in their distinctive scrap flak armour quickly advancing towards the four unknown assailants that their comrades were currently embroiled in battle against, out of range right now but closing by the second.

With no way of knowing of the fresh wave rapidly approaching from their flank, the group who had performed admirably up to now would be outnumbered and surrounded. Samias didn't count their odds if that became the case, and with them gone they would find Val next. But the street that the two boys were in now merged with the square at the south-west, meaning that they were almost directly behind this new threat…

"Oh shit. They're done for," Michael muttered, before turning to his friend, the question on his lips suddenly replaced by shock when he beheld the determined expression on the older boy's face. "Sam, no … you've gotta be shitting me if you're thinking of doing that. What the fuck do they even mean to you?"

"Anyone who kills Red Eyes is a friend in my book," the eighteen year old growled, feeling a strange form of adrenaline-fueled resolution begin to fill him, and tightened his grip on his pistol.

"You're insane – you're gonna get all three of us killed!" the other near-shrieked, grasping onto his friend's muscular arm before Sam shook him off. Valeria had obviously reached the same conclusion as Michael and shook her head rapidly in their direction.

Samias didn't even see her. His vision seemed to hone in on the backs of the Red Eye grunts, trigger finger itching to compress his pistol into savage action even as Michael tried desperately to get his attention, too paralysed with his own terror to do anything more than repeat Sam's name.

Time almost seemed to slow around him, muffling out the sound of his friend's pleas, and he picked out his targets amongst the six Red Eyes.

 _You bastards are going to pay for what you did to_ her …

The boy waited until the moment he knew the gangers' autorifles would be in range to unleash death upon the four they were flanking before he burst from his own vantage point, pistol levelled and firing, incoherently roaring his defiance of the Red Eye gang.

The first three shots impacted into the shaven head of a Red Eye thug who died before he could even scream. Two more produced sprays of blood as they pierced the exposed back of another gang member, although this one could howl in agony as he fell, drowning in blood flooding up from his punctured lungs.

The sixth and seventh shots missed, whizzing through the rain-choked air, whilst the eighth thudded through the flak armour of a third ganger, causing the woman to screech in pain but not felling her like Samias had intended.

Out of ammo for that clip, Samias hurled himself to the ground, misjudging his trajectory and crashing into the hard rockcrete, knocking the air from his lungs and leaving him wheezing for breath. The three untouched Red Eye members had spun towards the assault from behind, their autorifles shots bouncing off of the courtyard and going wide of the boy thanks to his evasive dive.

Alerted of the planned ambush by the screams of the wounded and fallen, the unknown grey-clads swiftly responded to this new threat, a withering spray of lasfire cutting down another coverless grunt whilst more patiently sequenced las shots dispatched another.

Samias rolled, rockcrete exploding around him and sending shards of it tearing through his fabric overalls and into the fragile skin beneath. The boy made a pained noise somewhere between a hacking cough and a shriek, fumbling with sweat- and rain- slick fingers for the second clip he had prepared before his crazed attack.

Jarred by his fall and the near-deafening noise of the gunfire all around him, the teenager had lost all sense of the both focus he had been instilled with earlier and where he was in relation to anything else.

He jammed the clip into his pistol, cursing the fact that the Chief hadn't thought it pertinent to equip the three with autopistols before this mission, firing near-blindly in the hope it would hit one of the two Red Eyes left near him.

The battle in the Elestra district square, which had been a brutal stalemate until now, had exploded into action with Samias's reckless charge. Those he had saved from the ambush had turned to react to it, whilst the other Red Eyes had broken from their cover because they saw that the flanking attack had commenced and their foes' attention had been diverted elsewhere.

The bolt pistol fired again, and one of the Red Eye scum who had been targeting Samias disappeared in a spray of blood and shredded organs. Sam whipped his gun around to the woman he had shot earlier, his eyes meeting her ruby-hued own before he fired and rolled.

His shot went wide, but hers didn't, and the boy screamed as white-hot pain cut down his left arm, blood spurting from the wound. The rest of what would have been a deadly fusillade scattered wildly as a full clip of bullets was unloaded into her by Michael, the slightly younger boy howling like he was the one who had been shot.

"Shit fuck Sam! Are you alright?" the silver haired boy questioned desperately, kneeling down next to the prone form of his friend.

 _Yes, you are alright. You've had worse than this. You've had worse …_

Tentatively touching his left arm, Samias could tell that even with the agony the bullet had just clipped through the skin instead of embedding in the limb – a few millimetres to the right and he would be dealing with a lot more than a flesh wound, even if it was a damn painful flesh wound.

It was then that he realised that he and Michael were still virtually out in the open with a gunfight raging around them. Grabbing his lanky friend, he near bodily hauled the other boy with him behind a nearby wall, hissing at the pain in his arm the action caused.

Adrenaline still thudded through his veins, and he and Mikey peered over the top of the rockcrete they had huddled behind, glad to see that the Red Eyes' focus was back on their other foes instead of the Chrome Fangs.

After the failure of their ambush the other gang members had been left stranded halfway between an attempt to capitalise on the distraction created by their allies and the need to get back into cover now that the flanking party had been eliminated.

The man with the bolt pistol unexpectedly marched into the clearing, the autofire immediately directed at him spattering ineffectually off of some form of invisible shield that surrounded him, the halting of the bullets creating a scintillating pattern that seemed to form from the pounding rain also. Unprepared by the sudden immunity of their enemy, three more Red Eyes were quickly cut down by the scything lasfire alongside the brutal impacts of the bolts.

Samias ignored the frantic babbling of his friend beside him, too absorbed in the violence that he was thankfully no longer a part of.

As the golden light spilling from the seemingly invulnerable man began to intensify, he quickly hid himself behind cover recently vacated by the gang members, the shield fading not a moment later.

Samias thought that perhaps he and Michael should have advanced with those he had risked his life for earlier, but now that rational thought was returning to him he found himself perfectly content to hide behind this wall and just watch.

 _Fucking hell … I almost killed myself …_ The thought was an odd one, and Samias shuddered, feeling his throat tense up and suddenly short of breath as he truly realised how close he had come to death.

He was glad that it was raining (as usual), because he didn't want Michael to see him crying now that the rush of adrenaline had faded.

"Wait … what is _that_?" the boy squashed next to him asked, the curious mix of horror and disgust in his voice palpable. Samias gazed out to where the youth's long forefinger was pointing.

Surrounded by other Red Eye lackeys who had drawn vicious serrated weapons and begun to charge their opponents was the strangest sing Samias had witnessed in his short life.

The person's head was completed swallowed by a quivering blob of translucent pink flesh, bifurcated tendrils reaching out to paw at the air. A single crimson eye, large, unblinking and unnaturally lit beheld the world around it, though the monochrome sphere did not move like the visual organs of other organisms.

Samias had seen mutants before – no true underhiver could say that they hadn't – but this eclipsed any perversion of the human form he had witnessed previously. Whilst the other mutants had deformities that could be traced back to natural anatomy, this aberration of wriggling flesh that stared emptily ahead seemed to be bonded to the ganger like a parasite.

For a moment, all Samias could see was that red eye, gazing into his soul, stretching out every fabric of his consciousness over an eternity. Then the feeling passed, and the boy had to do all he could to stop himself from retching up the contents of the nutrition pack he had eaten for breakfast earlier today.

"I … I don't know," he mumbled, doing everything he could to look anywhere but that all-consuming eye and still focus on the violence. The man with the bolt pistol fired two rounds in quick succession, both aimed squarely at the vile _thing_ clinging to the thug.

It raised two gently swaying fronds, and the bolts flickered and disappeared as though they had never been there. A blazing storm of las curved as light should never do, its trajectory altered from the being's host to carving into the rockcrete at its feet. The air shimmered around the creature, raindrops swelling and bursting into showers of red illumination around it. Mesmerised by the display, Samias had still seen that the other Red Eyes

"Aurelius!" the man with the bolt pistol shouted, his stern voice slicing through the noise like all of the gunfire was just the whining of petulant children interrupting an important discussion. The smallest out of the group who must have been the addressed nodded, touching his throat for a moment before sprinting into cover next to the vile thing

The beautifully disgusting displays of radiant rain splashes instantly halted, and the nebulous lump of leathery flesh made a strange mewling sound (despite having no visible vocal capabilities). The haunting light of its central orb dimmed before fading entirely, leaving it a sort of pinkish red like spoiled milk mixed with blood.

A volley of las bolts cut down the creature and its host, scorching holes tearing through the human body underneath and searing the parasite that had engulfed its head.

"Holy Emperor," Michael breathed, making the sign of the Imperial Aquila – one of the only reverent things Samias had ever seen the other boy do before.

"Samias!" a voice shouted, before he was near tackled by another form. Startled, he looked down to see Valeria having hurled herself at him, arms wrapping around his waist as her head pressed against his chest. "You damn idiot! You're insane!"

He smiled fondly down at the girl, ignoring the quiver in her voice and the quiet sniffles that interspersed her reprimanding. Val pulled away almost as quickly as she had arrived, pulling the boy's wounded arm forwards as Mikey snorted, "I told him the same thing, Val. But you know how Sam is. Always has to be the hero."

Aware that his friend was only teasing him, Samias swallowed the caustic remark brewing in his head, instead yelping as Val pulled up his sleeve to expose his bleeding arm. Instead of apologising, she merely scowled, tearing off a piece of her own sleeve and tying it around the wound, ignoring Sam's whining.

Relief flooded through all three of the Chrome Fangs, each of whom thought that their lives would have been cut short by the merciless Red Eye. For a moment, they were each content to bask in the continued company of one another as the adrenaline faded away. Michael laughed, and Samias joined him for a moment, pretending that the pain in his arm and legs had disappeared. Valeria tried and failed to curl her lips back into a frown so she could look annoyed at the tallest of the trio.

"That was some good shooting back there, kid. And your damned reckless heroics certainly helped us out," a gruff but amused voice interrupted their small celebration of survival, all three spinning around to regard the man who had addressed them, each somewhat embarrassed that they had forgotten about the presence of the other victors. He was tall, outstripping Samias in height by several inches, and with the muscle mass to make that size intimidating.

His casual pose belied the carefully taut posture of a seasoned killer that Sam had seen before in some of the older Chrome Fangs, and numerous scars blemished an otherwise unremarkable face. Brown eyes scanned each of the underhivers, simultaneously open yet inscrutable. He grinned at the youngsters, absently twirling the laspistol in his left hand, before extending his right towards Samias.

The boy hesitated for a moment, his gaze flicking towards Val, whose grey eyes encapsulated a metaphorical shrug. He took the man's hand in his own, his big hand feeling small clasped in the other's, wondering how it was strange he felt barely any wariness towards someone he had, only minutes ago, watched slaughter a group of Red Eyes without even a flinch.

"The name's Strask," he introduced himself, holding onto Samias for a moment more than necessary as his eyes conveyed his gratitude. Samias replied with his own name, feeling suddenly unworthy of being in this man's presence and subjected to his unspoken thanks.

The other two also named themselves moments later, somewhat awkwardly as it seemed that Strask wasn't too concerned with them.

Strask then continued, "You three probably have somewhere to be, but I'm sure he wants to thank you for your aid himself." The man flicked a thumb behind him to the direction of his other allies who were gathered near the strange creature they had just killed. He phrased it as if they had a choice, but the look in his eyes implied otherwise.

The Chrome Fangs exchanged glances, before Val took charge. "Sure, why not? I mean, we have to get back to base and tell them about the Red Eye bastards, but a few minutes here shouldn't hurt."

Strask let out a little "huh", the welcoming yet grim smile not leaving his face. "I'd suggest waiting until they finish their little chat first."

Val shot him a perturbed glance before following him to the other side of the square, indulging in a moment of what she would usually consider pointless superstition to thank Saint Elestra for watching over them – especially Samias.

Truth be told, the boy was curious to see who those he had almost died for actually were – any friends that were this talented at killing Red Eyes would certainly be welcome, though he had the sneaking suspicion that they wouldn't be that inclined to aid the Chrome Fangs either.

"So, interrogators. What are your thoughts?" the man with the bolt pistol questioned as the four approached, pacing around the corpse of the unnatural thing and its human host. His voice had not lost its harshness from earlier, and Samias could _feel_ the authority brimming in every uttered syllable.

It was like when the Chief of the Chrome Fangs spoke, invoking the respect and subservience of those around him from the strength of his words alone, although with this man it was more an unyielding demand.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say it was almost Tzeentchian in nature," a woman with her back to Samias mused, pacing closer to the aberration they had killed and kneeling down in front of it. Her voice was cultured, refined and accented in a way that reminded Sam of the speech of the crowning of the new governor of Hive Enchellus that was blasted across every pict-feed in the city. The fascination in it almost disguised her distaste. "But no, it is far too stable in form for that."

The woman stalked round the thing, and Sam caught a glimpse of neatly arranged white hair that had fallen slightly astray in the confrontation and rain-spattered ebony skin. "Is it Tyranid, perhaps? It is certainly purely biological in nature, and though I've never seen a specimen like this before it wouldn't be unexpected of a Genestealer strain to develop such parasitical mutants."

Samias could hear the frown in her speculative words, as if she was annoyed at herself for not having a concrete answer to the man's question. Personally, he barely had an idea of what they were discussing at all, but he didn't have the confidence in him at all to break the discourse between the three.

The man remained silent, offering no words of encouragement nor rebuttal. The smallest figure – _Aurelius_ , Sam recalled - who had pulled the hood of his grey fatigues over his head, stepped back from the tentacled creature. The alien glow of its eye returned, and Samias started, grasping the hand of his pistol before Strask waved a placating hand.

It seemed that even in death, the thing's eerie light persisted. The eighteen year old suppressed an involuntary shudder, averting his eyes from the redness.

"It _is_ undeniably psychic in capability," the woman murmured, continuing on her slow walk around the thing like it was a specimen on a dissection table. Her brown was furrowed in consternation, and she didn't look up to acknowledge Samias and his friends staring at her now that they were afforded a full view of her posture.

She was younger than Strask but definitely an adult, the smoothness of youthful features etched with the encroaching lines of middle age and experience – in spite of her noble countenance. "And a mutant strain of Tyranid remains my hypothesis for now, though without any insight into its biochemical structure I cannot be certain."

Aurelius stepped closer to the subject of their attention once more; Samias was grateful for the extinguishing of the thing's light even as he questioned why this person seemed to have the ability to eliminate it.

"Could it be … an Enslaver?" a young voice that Samias had not been anticipating at all asked with a hint of uncertainty. It was met with a swift reply, "Very good, Aurelius. I believe it is indeed an Enslaver, though an infant one at most. You see, Udanya, whilst you were close in the xenos nature of our foe, this being's psychic capabilities far outstrip that of any form of Genestealer mutant."

"An Enslaver, of course!" Udanya exclaimed, her excitement warring with revulsion, "That explains the singular eye, and the control it was exerting on the other gang thugs. But I was not aware that their infant forms were parasitical in nature. How did you deduce that one, Aurelius?"

"I didn't know that either," the boy mumbled with a shrug, his back still to Samias, who was stood with Strask and his friends a respectful distance away. "I just saw that its defence against the mass reactives was to remove them from realspace rather than kinetically repulse them – suggesting a connection to the Immaterium that a Tyranid or a derivative wouldn't possess."

"Excellent reasoning," Udanya stated with a neutral expression, before turning to the third member of their discussion, "But surely that means…"

"Yes," the man replied gravely, "If this being's identity as an Enslaver is confirmed through dissection, then this is no longer a matter for the Ordo Hereticus alone."

The words meant little to Samias and Michael, but Val gasped at them. As if suddenly aware that there were other people near them, the trio turned to the group that had been waiting patiently for their little chat to end.

"So … uh … if you could explain what was going on, that would be great," Michael stuttered nervously, plastering a dumb smile on his face. Valeria scowled at him whilst Samias only grinned, proud of his friend for not being intimidated by the killers of the Red Eyes. Ok, "not intimidated" was perhaps a bit of an overstatement, but he had definitely displayed the usual Chrome Fang disregard of authority.

The three temporarily abandoned the corpse they had been conversing about, stepping towards the underhivers and Strask. As they came closer, Samias got his first proper look at the eldest and youngest of this strange collection of killers, his gaze captured by the latter first.

Patrician features with thin, medium-high cheekbones framed eyes of piercing blue stared back at him, a fringe of bright golden hair almost reaching down to them. Aurelius's stature was almost petite, the non-descript hive wear hanging off of what would definitely be a skinny body (judging by how thin his fingers were in skin-tight black gloves), the boy himself a couple of inches shorter than Michael's modest height of five feet and nine inches from what Sam could tell at the distance.

He was undeniably very pretty, even soaking wet and with a slight scowl twisting his handsome features. His eyes shone with intelligence, though they bored into Sam's own as he stared into them, filled with nothing more than hostility before he ripped their gazes apart to glare at something else.

Samias was freed from the reverie he had fallen into with a sharp nudge from an elbow. Valeria smirked at him with knowing eyes, and the boy was glad that he was already red from previous exertion as otherwise his blush would have been stark on his face. He would have given her a clap round the shoulder if they weren't about to make their first impression on potential allies.

At least Mikey seemingly hadn't noticed his lapse. Valeria would definitely tease him about it later before forgetting about it, but if the youngest of the three by a couple of months had picked up on it Samias probably wouldn't be spared from it for at least a week.

As the three stepped closer, a sensation of strange discomfort overcame Sam, something akin to what the so-called Enslaver had made him experience but simultaneously a complete opposite to that mesmerising loss of focus.

Everything around him became suffused with excruciating clarity, from the pounding of every raindrop on his skin to the quiet breaths of Val and Michael which had become near deafeningly loud. It was a form of sensory overload that made every stimulus seem so much more _real_ , and yet in spite of the sharpness that defined every physical feeling the world was suddenly so much more empty than it was only moments ago. His thoughts felt incredibly distant, glittering sunlight dancing on a pool of nothingness that he couldn't swim out of no matter how hard he tried.

Nausea swirled round in his gut, and the boy winced as he took an involuntary step backwards, the noise of his foot cracking down on the rockcrete below reverberating in his ears like he had just endured a grenade explosion.

Aurelius fiddled with something on his neck, and the world snapped back to its usual self, Samias's thoughts returning back to him as the urge to vomit passed – though the aura of what he could only describe as _otherness_ remained. Judging by the stunned expressions of Michael and Val, they had felt it too. He shivered and frowned at the blonde boy, who did not meet his gaze, but had no chance to question just what the hell that was before he was being spoken to.

"So you are the ones who aided us against these gang warriors," the oldest one in the square gazed into him. If Samias had thought that Aurelius had stared straight into his soul, then this man's eyes stripped him down to the very core of his being and beheld it for what it was, could tear every secret from his mind without even trying. He couldn't hold the man's stare for even a few seconds, so instead examined the rest of them.

He was bald, with hard facial features that had nothing particularly unordinary about them aside from those intense eyes, and was of average height and stature for a man on Karvonis IV from what Samias had seen, a head or so shorter than Samias himself. And yet, despite having to cast his eyes downwards to take in the man's appearance, the absolute authority that defined the way he held himself made it seem as if Sam was gazing up at him.

 _Come on Sam, get it together. You're not going to be intimidated by this guy, so stop overblowing the effect he is having on you._ Reassured only slightly by his internal monologue, the teenager merely nodded in response, still feeling somewhat queasy from earlier. Steeling himself, he met the man's eyes once more, and although his words expressed gratitude his gaze seemed to do anything but, "I thank you for your aid in repelling the party sent to flank us."

He fished inside of his grey jacket's interior pocket, before pulling out a gleaming pendant that he displayed before the adolescents. The stylised I, gilded and ornate but otherwise rather simple in design, swayed in the downpour. To say Samias didn't recognise the sigil would be a lie, though it took a moment for it to truly click inside of his head.

"I am Inquisitor Julion Dominus of the Ordo Hereticus. And you three will be coming with us."


	2. Stratagems

**Sorry for the delay on this one. For these earlier chapters, the perspective will switch between Samias and Aurelius in sections whereas later on the sections will focus on both.**

* * *

" _Take me with you. For laughs, for luck, for the unknown. Take me with you."_

 _\- M2, author unknown._

Aurelius watched intently as the Inquisitor presented his holy sigil of authority to the hivers. Julion didn't often make a show of displaying his true identity as arguably the most powerful individual in any given system like many of his witch hunter compatriots, but in this instance it was an understandable act.

The hivers, through a mix of reckless heroics and blind luck, _had_ aided them in combat against the horde of vile gang members which had attacked the district, so to either administer the Emperor's Peace or capture them and waste mind cleansing psychovirals would have been unnecessary. But letting them depart and disseminate the information of both the Enslaver (though there was no possibility of them understanding what that represented) and the Inquisitorial retinue who had dispatched it and many other underhive scum could easily lead to the disruption of their entire investigation.

It was also equally as likely that their accounts of the event would be dismissed as wild conjecture and ignored, but Inquisitor Julion was not one to avoid eliminating every avenue of failure that he could. Thus the three teenagers would come with them for the moment until their usefulness could be ascertained.

They might even provide some useful information into the workings of Enchellus's sprawling underhive, though Aurelius doubted it.

It was always intriguing to watch the reactions of those exposed to the near-divine mandate for the first time. The boy instinctively fingered the similar but far simpler rendition of the emblem that had authorised the obliteration of whole worlds, having received it in his elevation from Acolyte to Interrogator after the disaster on the world of Medlia's Sepulchre. Though the amount of times he had used his own, much less significant, sigil could be counted on one hand, Aurelius had served under his master for long enough to have a decent repository of past experiences to call back on.

The girl's eyes widened in fear, although from the gasp she had let out earlier it was obvious she had already worked out who they were dealing with. Her eyes darted around in vain to see if there was anywhere she could escape to, probably having heard of the violent tales of the Ordo Hereticus strewn across the Imperium and beyond.

The taller boy froze, his somewhat confident posture becoming rigid as he processed the information.

And the one with silver hair … laughed. It started as a nervous chuckle before quickly developing into full blown hysteria, the teen giggling with genuine amusement. Aurelius had never seen that before, and baulked inside at how the Inquisitor would react.

Perhaps the Emperor's Peace wasn't too distant for these underhive locals after all.

He saw Strask having to quickly suppress his own smile at the admittedly infectious laughter, and though the situation was certainly strange Aurelius didn't find it as entertaining as the former guardsman.

At least the chortling boy's friends had the decency to look completely mortified at his response to the declaration, the girl looking as if she was about to bolt and leave the silver haired one behind and the larger male quickly shaking him, hissing, "Emperor on Terra Mikey why the fuck are you laughing?"  
Mikey, as he had been named, glanced back up at the Inquisitor (who Aurelius wished he wasn't stood slightly behind as he wanted to see the man's expression), stifling his sudden bout of laughter, as he looked up at Julion.

"Oh … you're being serious," he said, which Strask quickly snapped back at with a retort of: "Yes, why wouldn't we be?"

"Because …" the boy seemed to lose some of the mad confidence which had possessed him, flicking uncertain eyes back and forth between his friends, before steeling himself in their presence as if them being there emboldened him to further heights of idiocy, "Because the Inquisition is a myth? Do you seriously expect us to believe that you a part of an organisation that doesn't even exist?"

"And what evidence do you have that indicates such?" Julion replied, his voice much more measured and calm than Aurelius had been anticipating – the voice the boy recognised from when he had been trying to teach him something back when the Inquisitor had first taken him under his wing, still stern like everything the man did but patiently coaxing one towards understanding.

How Julion had remained within an even temperament at the blatant disrespect being shown to him was a mystery to the Interrogator – not that he himself wouldn't have been capable of the same, far from it as he was well accustomed to much worse, but his master was used to being shown either the admiration of his retinue or the overwhelming deference of the other servants of the Imperium.

"Well … you could easily just be gangers like the Red Eye, or highspire Arbites come to take us into confinement," Mikey responded. Aurelius wished they weren't wasting time pursuing this ridiculous line of thought, and yet the Inquisitor obviously cared enough about gaining a modicum of trust from these underhivers to be indulging the teenager. He was well aware that Julion examined everyone around him not already a part of his retinue for their potential usefulness at becoming an Acolyte, and supposed that after Medlia's Sepulchre there was yet still rebuilding that had to be done before they replaced the losses.

"Yet if we consider that, how does your predicament change at all? Whether I am an Inquisitor or what you have suggested, you three are coming with us," the older man stated with a hint of finality. The three underhivers shared what they must have believed to be surreptitious glances as the man strode past them. Aurelius watched for a moment before they began to meekly follow, staying close to one another.

Udanya left Aurelius's side, pacing alongside the Inquisitor and beginning to discuss the implications of an Enslaver being on this world, how it would completely shift the focus of their investigation. The boy knew that he should really be adding his own input to the conversation, especially since he was the one that deduced the information in the first place, but instead turned towards Strask.

The man had pulled out his trusty combat knife, carefully carving around the Enslaver's attachment to the thug it had sunk its tendrils into, readying the corpse for further analysis – something the Inquisitor would have overseen himself if he hadn't wanted to leave an impression on those that had helped them.

Noticing Aurelius's continued presence – not that it was any difficult – Strask gave him one of his customary grins before motioning back to the group with his knife, the blood dripping off the blade washed away by the unrelenting rain as he spoke, "You should get going with the others, Aurelius. I've got the situation under control here."

The seventeen solar year old nodded curtly, looking back at the departing group and beginning to follow in their footsteps, though not before a jab from the older male disturbed the rainfall, "Who knows, you might even make some friends."

The Interrogator pretended not to hear the taunt as he quickly strode to catch up with the others. Whilst he could handle himself perfectly fine on his own, there was no use in tempting fate, particularly since they had just escaped danger.

He was aware that Strask got a small kick out of teasing him and treating him like the child he might have been in different circumstances, so tried not to let the comment irk him. Strask knew full well that such a thing wouldn't happen, not with what Aurelius was, though the older man had always attempted to act in a sort of brotherly way with the youngest in the Inquisitor's retinue. This had only become more pronounced since they lost Mattias, but Aurelius didn't really want to dwell on that now.

The puddles underneath his shoes splashed as he walked through them, soaking through the leather and chilling his feet to the bone. Shivering, the boy drew the slightly-too-large coat that he had worn on what was supposed to have been a reconnaissance mission more tightly around himself.

He hated this planet. In the month that they had spent here, integrating themselves into the hive and investigating potential leads that would expose the corruption that was rampant here, it had not been raining for more than an hour a grand total of twice. Aurelius could empathise with the downtrodden appearance of most of this world's loyal hive citizens, with the drudgery of their endless menial work compounded by the constant downpour and grey atmosphere.

 _You would think whoever designed these streets would have accounted for the rain and installed some sort of irrigation system,_ he thought bitterly as he stepped into _another_ puddle that splashed water up his legs.

Countless millennia of processing the raw materials mined on the rocky planetoid Karvonis II into polymers that were distributed across several local systems had saturated the atmosphere with moisture even as it filled the pockets of the Administratum and Munitorum executives.

At least back in the more wealthy mercantile district in which they had made their temporary residence there was plenty of suitable covering for the rain. Here in District Elestra, on the cusp of the underhive, the only shelter from the endless rain was inside.

An Enslaver being here – if that was what the creature was, though he believed it to be so and the Inquisitor had made it evident he agreed – significantly changed what the focus of their enquiry into the root of the heresy on Karvonis IV. Even just an infant being present indicated a large amount of psychic presence in the undercity. He knew from his studies that Enslavers never operated alone, always working towards the expansion of their species into realspace, though Aurelius wasn't currently aware of the finer details of their mechanism for the takeover of worlds – such was not primarily under Ordo Hereticus jurisdiction.

Almost lost in thought, he barely noticed that he had caught up with the three hivers trailing behind the Inquisitor and his fellow Interrogator as they passed into the first avenue that would lead to the exit of the district.

"Hey … it's Aurelius, right?" a voice called to him. The blonde peeked out from under his hood, raking his eyes over the tallest – and most useful so far, apparently – of the three, who had stopped to speak to him.

His brown hair matted to his head, the boy was lean and athletic, with open features and warm green eyes that Aurelius felt he could have reached into and plucked anything he wanted to out of him.

The brunette appeared to be in flux between a casual sort of confidence that Aurelius had often wished his possessed (when he had time for doubt) and suffering discomfort that he was trying and failing to conceal.

Aurelius was used to having that effect on people. It was part of who he was, even if he cursed it in times of low self-esteem.

"I'm Samias. It's … nice to meet you," the tall boy said with some difficulty, as he fell into step beside Aurelius, extending a large hand towards the Interrogator.

He blinked, wondering if this boy was mentally challenged, before internally chastising himself. Most people avoided him because of his pervasive aura, and others because they knew what he was, and it was unlikely that Samias had even heard of the possibility of it existing, much less how to identify it.

Nonetheless, either he was too stupid to have worked out that Aurelius himself was the source of his discomfort or foolish enough not to care. The gloves he was wearing lessened how much the effect increased with contact, but didn't prevent it.

He favoured the boy with a look that was apathetic and disdainful, one that he had crafted through the years to get those who weren't already driven away by the sense of wrongness that surrounded him to leave him alone. Too much apathy and it didn't do enough to discourage those who had got this far to be actually speaking to him, too much disdain and it would provoke a negative reaction that would inevitably prolong the confrontation.

Ignoring the proffered hand, the boy walked slightly faster, leaving the hivers as Mikey muttered, "Sheesh. What's wrong with him?"

Aurelius took his place to the left of Julion, skulking behind the Inquisitor like some sort of unwanted pet and trying to pretend he couldn't feel the gazes of the other teenagers boring into his back.

This was going to be a long walk back to the apartment block.

.*.*.

Samias had never been this far away from his home in the underhive before. The group walked through streets that seemed regularly maintained, spared from the unrelenting rain by shelters that extended from the tall buildings either side of the path. The grey shade of the hive that he had become acclimatised to all his life was replaced with more colour, even if it was somewhat muted.

He had started feeling out of place the second district from Elestra they had passed through, the standard hab blocks for menial labourers slowly replaced by larger structures with more variety as they ascended the hive.

Samias and Val had shared a look at this point, wondering if now was their chance to bolt and lose the Inquisitor in the flow of other hivers going about their dreary afternoon lives. They had quickly disabused themselves of the notion when Strask had seemed to materialise behind them, covering their rear.

All three had silently wondered if the rest of the Chrome Fangs had begun to worry by now, but it wasn't the first time they lost members and it wouldn't be the last. Truth be told, Samias did want to go back, but trying anything would be suicide. Not only were the three gangers outnumbered, they were outmatched as well.

Now that the rush of the combat had truly faded, Samias began to feel the chilling touch of fear tingling up and down his spine, not helped by the fact that his injuries were flaring into more painful life.

They had taken two busy thirty minute monorail journeys as they passed into the inner city, which was also a new experience for the eighteen year old. A few questions, mostly concerning their destination, had been answered by Julion or Strask, but other than that conversation was somewhat stinted, limited mostly to the Inquisitor and Udanya or small sections of nervous chatter between the gangers.

It seemed like the topic of their forced accompaniment of the Inquisitor and the nature of the firefight they had survived would be saved until they reached the compound that they had taken residence in. Even Mikey knew better than to bring up what had transpired in such a public place, with prying eyes and ears all around.

He felt more incongruous than ever, and ensured that he was close behind the Inquisitor at all points, trailing him like a stray dog desperate for a home. Sam didn't want his tattered clothing signifying that he was not from this area to be detected by any of the more well-dressed hivers surrounding them – or any of the Arbites enforcers that deigned to patrol this area with a regularity the boy had never seen before.

They took a left turn, leading away from the main streets for the first time in their journey. Initially, Sam had thought that they would stick to more clandestine routes for the whole thing to avoid prying eyes, but the Inquisitor and his retinue blended so well into the crowds he supposed that using shadowed alleyways and sparsely populated side streets would arouse more suspicion than what they were doing now.

"We're here," Strask announced as the group approached a tall building, though not one that outstripped the heights of its brethren. Samias was impressed. They weren't in the highspire districts reserved for the planet's nobility and highest ranking members of the planetary Adepta (though the two groups were virtually indistinguishable), but they were still in an area that wasn't afraid of flaunting its wealth to those passing through.

The Inquisitor input a short sequence onto a panel flanking a moderately sized door styled like mahogany with the Imperial Aquila above it, the door swishing open after a short beep. Inside was an elegantly furnished foyer, Imperial sigils adorning the walls alongside the crest of House Camellia, ruling family of Karvonis IV. The skull framed by a faded pink flower was a common sight in the few non-undercity regions of Enchellus Samias had visited, almost as frequent as the usual Imperial heraldry.

The floor was made to appear like wood but was undeniably plascrete, a clear sign that they weren't yet in the richest part of the hive, though it was more carefully moulded and kept in a better state of repair than what Samias had come to expect. A red carpet covered most of the floor further into the large room, a holo-image of a fire dancing in front of what must have been a heater.

Other doors of the same pseudo-mahogany as the first led off into other corridors, though they were all closed – probably to conserve heat. The foyer was pleasant, certainly, but Samias couldn't help but feel that the cultivated homeliness affected an air of insincerity – not that he was suddenly an interior critic.

"Woah. This place is _nice_ ," Michael murmured, and Samias was inclined to agree. Comfortable looking sofas surrounded low glass tables, one of which was currently occupied by a man who stood to attention as soon as the Inquisitor entered.

"Inquisitor. I am delighted to see you return. And with some new friends no less," the man greeted, his accent the most culturally refined yet. He was young looking, with short black hair and a thin goatee of the same, and yet his mannerisms made him seem distinctly older than his face would imply to Sam.

The man flashed a smile at him as Samias stared at the augmetic eyes implanted in his sockets. It wasn't as if he had never seen mechanical augmentations before, even eyes – but the craftsmanship was leagues beyond the crude upgrades some gang members who could afford or smuggle them had.

"Idris. Have you found anything concerning our leads in the upper hive?" Julion had no such pleasant greeting to the man, cutting straight to the point. Idris shook his head, "Regretfully, none of the Camellia servants that I spoke to had noticed anything suspicious, and the archives of District Camellia's Administratum facility I hacked were woefully curated, lacking any useful information – though I did obtain a transcript should you wish to examine it yourself."

"That won't be necessary," Julion waved away the proffered data slate Idris had thrust in his direction, before spinning on his heel to the three Chrome Fangs. "Idris here will take you two," he pointed at Michael and Val, "to our guest rooms. Feel free to get changed. Udanya will direct you, Samias, to the medicae facility so that Doctor Emilia can see to your wounds. We will reconvene in the dining hall in one hour to discuss why you have been brought here."

"We should stick together," Valeria whispered, before raising her voice, "Michael and I will accompany Sam to the medicae."

The Inquisitor had already turned his back to them, and waved his hand dismissively. He and Strask departed through a door to the left, Udanya following in tow once it became clear that Idris would be enough to guide them through the apartment complex. Aurelius had already disappeared, the faint heaviness at the back of Sam's mind having faded.

.*.*.

Dressed in a tight-fitting but not uncomfortable black t-shirt that left most of his arms bare (Michael had given him a mock scowl for that, teasing: "You always have to make the rest of us look bad, don't you?") and trousers of a similar nature, his shredded clothes having been disposed of, Samias strode into the dining room.

Idris and Udanya were sat on the right, deep in some discussion that halted when the three gang members entered. Aurelius was on the left next to two empty seats, with the doctor who had patched up Sam's wounds a seat apart – leaving three seats clustered around the end of the medium-length table.

Samias doubted that was unintentional, as that would leave the trio facing Inquisition members on all sides whilst they themselves were separate from them, but took the seat to the left of the table anyway, Val on the centre and Michael to the right.

He gazed across at Aurelius, the boy occupied in a leather bound tome that he constantly flicked back and forth between the pages of, though from the angle Samias couldn't perceive its title. Now that they were out of the rain, the younger (he presumed) boy had put on a black jacket, collar edged with the Imperial Aquila with the same symbol etched in silver above its front pocket.

The jacket fit perfectly on the teen's slender form, suggesting that it had been tailor made for him, though that only highlighted how thin Aurelius was. The boy was as skinny as Mikey despite being a few inches shorter, almost unhealthily so – but Samias had seen starving underhivers too often to be unable to tell that he wasn't. Besides, there was something strangely hollow that Sam couldn't quantify besides his cheeks.

It wasn't what Samias was usually term indoor wear, and even if he didn't know what Aurelius's dress habits were he could tell that the boy was only wearing it because they had newcomers amongst them. To make an impression, or something.

Noting the other boy's scrutiny, Aurelius spared a second from his book to send an unsettlingly blank stare at Samias until he averted his own eyes back to the other occupants of the table chairs.

 _Emperor on Terra. Would it hurt him just to act friendly – scratch that, just_ normal.

"Man, I'm starving," he exclaimed, leaning back in his seat. His stomach punctuated the words with a timely grumbled, provoking a chuckle from Val. Ever since his induction into the Chrome Fangs (the tattoo of the gang's symbol inked onto his abdomen), when food had become more available (if not plentiful) he had begun to eat a lot more.

Perhaps it was because he no longer had to carve out a living in the toxic city sewers and subsist on the meagre scraps that got him, or perhaps it was because of his desire to become strong. Either way, going without three meals a day, even if they were small ones, was an irregularity to the eighteen year old, and his stomach agreed.

Besides, if he didn't keep up his current diet then he would lose the muscle that was more than just sinew, something he was rather proud of. He liked being big, strong, able to stand up for himself and his friends. It was a far cry from how he was in the past, and he wanted to keep it that way.

"Pretty sure you're always hungry, big guy," Mikey laughed, and Samias grinned at him. That would have earned his friend a good-natured punch on the shoulder had they not been separated by Val.

"Food will be arriving shortly, Samias," Idris told him with a small smile. "And I must tell you that Strask is quite the cook."

Samias nodded gratefully back at the older man. He liked Idris. He had been nothing but welcoming and informative since their arrival, answering a few of the group's questions whilst responding to others with a knowing wink and the knowledge that the Inquisitor would tell them.

 _Speaking of …_

Julion walked into the modestly sized hall, immediately capturing the attention of those in attendance, his black attire much like Aurelius's (and Udanya's, although Samias hadn't been paying as much attention to her outfit) but more regal and stylised with the Inquisitorial Rosette in the centre. Though Samias would be lying if he said the mouth-watering aroma that had followed in the Inquisitor's wake was less wanted than the man himself. Julion was carrying a stack of bowls in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other, followed by Strask who himself was handling a large pot.

For some reason, Samias had assumed that the Inquisitor wouldn't lower himself to the measure of such menial tasks but the lack of reaction from anyone else confirmed that it was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Smells good, Strask," Emilia said. Whilst Samias was thankful for her tending to his wounds, she hadn't been overly friendly or tender about it. He had no reason to think it was anything more than a habitual distrust of strangers, although it was not on the same level as Aurelius's near open hostility towards the gangers.

Strask placed the pot of stew in the centre of the table, motioning for everyone to reach over and fill their bowl.

Val eyed the pot suspiciously, turning to Strask with a question on her lips. Before she could speak, the man interrupted her, assuring the girl, "Listen, if we wanted to hurt you don't you think we would have done it already? The food's fine."

The moment he got his portion, Samias instantly tucked in, close to sighing happily at it – he would have done if the atmosphere wasn't still quite tense. The food was great, a wonderful blend of spices and the natural flavour of the meat. It was the best thing Sam had eaten in a while, though that might just have been because of the hunger. It certainly beat a nutriblock, that was for sure.

"Eat your fill, everyone. Freshly stewed Enslaver," Strask announced proudly. Samias spluttered, choking down the piece of meat that was already in his mouth, with Val and Michael having similar disgusted reactions.

"Very funny, Strask," Udanya chided, rolling her eyes at the man's antics, whilst the Inquisitor scolded him with a: "I'm not entirely that was appropriate for the situation at hand."

Mikey, Emperor bless him, laughed at the joke in a way that was entirely too forced. Samias suspected that Strask's prank might have been better received in other circumstances, the camaraderie of the Inquisitorial group stunted with the intruders in its midst.

Aurelius didn't … _Wait, why am I watching what he's doing again? Why do my eyes keep getting drawn to that weirdo?_ He forced himself to look away before the younger male became aware of his gaze once more.

Silence descended for a moment, broken only by the sound of eating, before the room was filled with Julion's enrapturing voice.

"I suppose you three are wondering why you were brought here," he spoke, not waiting for an answer to his rhetorical question before continuing, "As you have probably deduced, the knowledge of the Enslaver that we killed _cannot_ be allowed to spread into the wider hive under any circumstances. If your testimonies were believed, it could cause untold panic and threaten the entire system, not to mention undermine our entire investigation.

"Tell me: are you each the members of an underhive gang?"

There was no point in lying to the Inquisitor – he was the sort of man who could effortlessly pierce through such a blatant deception – so all three nodded, not quite in unison but close enough. If the man had already worked it out and not acted upon it probably meant that they weren't about to be turned into the Arbites

"I thought as much. Those we were engaged against clearly were, so only members of a rival gang would likely raise arms against them," Julion uttered, "The presence of an Enslaver in their ranks – confirmed by my preliminary tests – means we must shift the focus of our pursuit. Tell us of the gang that we fought."

The Chrome Fangs shared glances, before Val coughed and spoke up, "My lord- "

"Sir will suffice, thank you," Julion cut in. Val blinked, momentarily stunned by the interruption, before continuing, "Sir, the gang we fought is called Red Eye. The biggest gang in the underhive, and by far the most murderous. The only reason they get away with their constant expansion are the drugs the higher ups in the gang sell to the highspire aristos and the Arbites. Everyone in the underhive knows it."

"And what are the drugs in question?" Julion inquired, the focus of the entire table now utterly away from food – not that it would stop Samias from having his fill. Michael stepped in, knowing more about the subject than the other two, "It's called Red-EX. A psychoactive. Induces hallucinations or some shi-"

The boy suppressed a yelp of pain from where Val had kicked him in the shin, "Or some _thing_. Gives them all the weird red eyes, same colour as the Enslaver had. I know a couple of guys who took it, it messed them up real bad. It was all they could talk about, wanting more, craving it, how it was the best thing that had ever happened to them."

"Interesting. So the corruption has spread to the underhive," the Inquisitor mused, clasping his hands together as he leaned over the table.

"What a twist," Aurelius muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear and his youthful voice dripping with sarcasm. Samias gave him a short glare. Sure, he knew better than most what a wretched place the underhive of Enchellus was, but it was still his home, had been ever since he was born. He didn't appreciate the fact that the only contribution the blonde had made was to deride Samias's home.

His master ignored the unhelpful comment, pressing on with the line of questioning, "And for your claim that the Red Eyes are dealing with the higher levels of governance in the hive, do you have any concrete evidence to back it up?"

Samias replied to this one, "Well, I know someone who said she saw them selling the stuff to some Arbites enforcers, though she couldn't get closer without being found out. But it's the only thing that explains how they are allowed to own almost the whole undercity and roam into districts on the edge – like Elestra."

"Have you considered that with the Red Eye as a dominant force, the Arbites don't have to devote as many resources to maintaining law in the underhive, and thus allow them to act with near impunity?" Udanya asked, drumming her fingers on the side of her bowl of stew.

Samias frowned. He hadn't, and in spite of the fact that his opinion of the Arbites was already low it was somehow easier to stomach that they were being forced away from protecting the underhive and its neighbouring districts by bribed, corrupt officials rather than having made the conscious choice to abandon the millions of people there to lawlessness.

"It could easily be a mixture of both. Regardless, without more information this is all merely conjecture. I assume the Red Eye aren't known for dealing with xenos, otherwise you would have mentioned it already," the Inquisitor stated to assenting nods.

"Whilst our leads in the upper hive are important to continue looking into, an Enslaver's presence is extremely dangerous in a way that I cannot stress enough. Thus we will focus more on this Red Eye gang and their potential enslavement. Udanya, I leave you in charge of our leads on the nobility. Aurelius, you and I shall head the new search in the underhive. No one should attempt to engage an Enslaver without Aurelius nearby. Whilst we must move quickly, you all know that rushing into a situation without the proper knowledge at hand will end in failure."

The Inquisitor eyed each person sat around the table individually, even the gangers, impressing upon them the severity of the task ahead.

Samias didn't really understand what was going on – why the Inquisition was here already, what was wrong with the upper hive besides the obvious, but most of all: "Sorry to interrupt, but what is an Enslaver?"

Julion gave him a grave look, the most serious the Inquisitor had been so far – and that was saying something.

"An Enslaver is a psychic entity from the Immaterium, drawn to unsanctioned witches in order to use their psychic potential for the opening of a portal to the Warp in order to allow more of their vile race through," he explained, "These incidents are thankfully extremely rare, as the number of rogue psykers is kept as low as possible, but once such a gateway to our materium has been opened vast numbers of Enslavers will swarm to the afflicted area. Hive Skorpios was such an example: within three days the entire hive was under the dominating will of the Enslavers, and in three weeks the whole planet was overrun. Exterminatus is the only option if such a thing comes to pass."

"Exterminatus …" Samias breathed. The situation was far more perilous than he had initially thought. The Exterminatus procedure was something mythical to him, something only spoken of by raving lunatics that would have been swiftly silenced in the upper hive.

It then occurred to him that, if what the Inquisitor was saying was true (and he had no reason to believe that it was not), then Julion would have the fate of the entire world – a vast, indescribable place that the boy had only ever seen a minute portion of – in his hands.

"Now if you'll excuse me," the Inquisitor stood, casting his austere gaze over the gangers as he did so, "I have important duties to attend to. Feel free to direct any more inquiries to any of my retinue."

And with that he took his leave, striding out of the dining room and leaving his place at the head of the table – and the conversation – vacant. The near untouched bowl of stew in left in Julion's wake, still steaming, transfixed Samias's eyes for a moment as he processed the enormity of the information he had been given.

What had started out as a routine mission to replenish the gang's supplies of ammo (and perhaps obtain some of the guns their contact had been able to smuggle out) had metamorphosed into something that was almost comically grave.

The gravity of the situation was difficult to comprehend for a boy who had only ever been concerned with the survival and happiness of his closest friends and a few others. That didn't mean he would never attempt to help strangers – such had often gotten him into serious trouble, and over the years that generous spirit had slowly been choked by the harshness of his life into what it was now.

 _What the hell have I gotten myself into here?_ Samias thought, pondering the question in the steam rising from his own bowl. With the revelation that what they had killed – what the Red Eyes were somehow connected with – could threaten the entire _system,_ his appetite had diminished somewhat. Not completely, so he ate whilst thinking of what else he wanted to ask.

Aurelius had pulled out his book again, a clear signal that, contrary to his master's parting words, any questions from the native hivers would not be appreciated. Samias almost wanted to ask the boy one directly, partly to rile him up and partly because he … _well, that's not important_ … but didn't want to be subjected to that soulless gaze once again.

The rest of the meal passed without much of note, the three gangers occasionally asking questions when they came up with pertinent ones. Val directed a few at the Inquisition's original purpose here, which, whilst they weren't directly rebuffed, were responded to with almost noncommittal answers. It was as if the retinue was reluctant to divulge the finer points of their ongoing investigation into the highspire regions of Enchellus, unsure of how much information to give the trio without Julion there.

Udanya departed a few minutes after the Inquisitor, followed shortly by Emilia, leaving three of the Inquisitorial group with the Chrome Fangs.

"Alright," Strask spoke as the large man finished the last bit of his meal, "You three should probably get some rest. In the morning, we'll begin our search of the underhive. We don't have much time, but like the Inquisitor said, rushing into it without a plan is only going to get us killed. Speaking of…"

He turned to Aurelius, who slowly closed his book, "You should probably share the plan we came up with since the Inquisitor's not here."

The boy looked as if there was nothing he wanted to do less, flicking his eyes towards the three to the right of him and repressing a sigh – or at least that was what it seemed like to Samias.

"First we need to ascertain the extent of the Enslaver presence – to do this we need to infiltrate the Red Eye leader's main stronghold in District CXXXVII-" he began, before swiftly being interrupted by a surprised interjection from Michael, "Wait, you know where that is?"

Aurelius gave him a mix between his usual blankness and a glare that conveyed just how insufferable he thought Michael was. Samias quickly jumped in to his friend's defence, stating, "Yeah, none of the Chrome Fangs even know where the Red Eye's main base is."

"We found that information when pursuing our leads into central hive Administratum corruption pursuant to dealings with unsanctioned sources. They possessed a record of its approximate location, namely the district in question," Idris supplied, saving Aurelius the trouble with his smooth explanation.

"Wait a minute. So that means you already knew who the Red Eyes were before asking us, right?" Samias questioned, to which Idris nodded. "Yes, though we have not had personal associations with them until this point. I suspect the Inquisitor wanted to discern what you knew about who you had just fought and glean any more information from those who had potentially dealt with the criminals a greater amount."

"As I was saying," Aurelius cut through the diverted discussion, clearly wishing to spend as little time as possible interacting with the gangers, "We need to find out whether this is a fully-developing Enslaver infection or a more isolated incident. If it is the former, eradication procedures must be taken as swiftly as possible. If it is the latter, we can spend more time finding its source and excising it carefully."

"And what does an eradication procedure entail?" Val asked, a worried look creasing her young features. Samias had anticipated either a vexed, disdainful stare or some words of derisive sarcasm from the smaller boy. Instead Aurelius gazed in the girl's direction for a few seconds, Idris electing to answer the question in a way that the man seemed compulsively inclined towards, filling any voids in the knowledge of the gangers, "Inquisitor Julion would be forced to use his Inquisitorial remit to enlist forces from the PDF and Adeptus Arbites in order to commit a full-scale purge of the underhive. Not only would such compromise our ongoing investigation, but the loss of life would be far greater, though still significantly preferable to the alternative should the invasion in this case not be halted."

Samias shuddered internally at the clinical way the man described the slaughter that was sure to take place, much more imaginable than the Exterminatus. He hadn't been alive back then, but he remembered the tales of the older Chrome Fangs of a near fanatical cleansing of the lower hive districts by a particularly fanatical priest of the Ecclesiarchy a couple of decades ago.

"Do you have any more information on the Red Eyes?" Aurelius asked them bluntly, laying his hands out on the table before curling them together. Despite the air of authority he was trying to put on, the boy's nervousness was only just concealed below the skin – surfacing in little fidgeting gestures and the way he refused to meet the eyes of those he was talking to.

Sam would have been more sympathetic (if not empathetic because he didn't have similar issues) if he wasn't sure whether or not Aurelius was truly socially anxious or just uncomfortable in conversing with people he believed were beneath him.

"Not more than we've already told you," he replied evenly.

Aurelius nodded, an awkward silence descending for a moment around the table, before Strask broke it, "The Inquisitor wants you three to stay with us, just while we sort out this Enslaver business anyway. So you'll have to help us out in navigating the undercity."

 _If that was part of their plan why didn't Aurelius just come out and say it?_ Samias wondered. The strategy had been explained by the other teen, but not the gangers' role in it. It was as if he simply refused to recognise that the three existed – that Samias had saved them from an ambush. _Jealous 'cause he's not the only young one anymore?_

"It's probably safer with you guys anyway," Michael said, his habitually jovial tone shot through with a tremor of trepidation.

"You've got that right. Shall I show you to your rooms?" Strask stood, stretching out bulky arms and yawning loudly after the question. Sam, Val and Mikey joined him in standing, Idris remaining seated and stacking the bowls left on the table.

Aurelius slid out of the dining room almost before Samias even registered it, but not before they had followed Strask to the door. He found that he still wanted to talk with Aurelius before he most likely retreated to his own room.

Maybe it was he was also a youngster thrust into this absurd situation, maybe it was because he wanted to learn more about his part to play in the upcoming days, maybe it was due to his damn attractive looks. Or maybe it was simply because Samias had always wanted to make friends or be on easy terms with those around him, even if that inner desire had been tempered over years of violence and darkness.

"Hey, Aurelius. Wait up."

The boy didn't, of course. He didn't even hesitate to acknowledge Sam's words before dismissing them, just kept walking like he hadn't heard a thing. In a split second, hardly thinking, he reached out and clasped a large hand over the smaller boy's bony shoulder.

Aurelius wrenched out of his grip as if it had burned, flinching away from the other male hard and spinning around furiously, hissing: "Do _not_ touch me!"

Sam would have held up his hands in placating apology if he hadn't been so stunned by the sheer venom in the boy's voice. He took an involuntary step back, the tension in the air almost visible as he automatically assumed a fighting position in response to the outburst.

Strange wisps of a new type of wrongness twisted in his gut, and his head pounded loudly for a few seconds, almost eclipsing all other sensations. Aurelius's posture was taut, defensive, ready to unwind into a burst of violent action, and yet he was shaking slightly. Samias knew then that he was the source of all of unnatural feelings he had been experiencing and found a surge of hatred towards the other boy pulsing through his body.

In spite of the clear anger in the teenager's voice, his eyes were almost the same blank, emotionless slate that they had been all the time since Samias had met him. _Almost,_ but not quite, as there were small spikes of what looked to be fury in those icy blue depths.

The moment passed, and Samias lowered his hands. He relaxed breathing that he didn't realise was heightened, the sudden urge to strike out at Aurelius's smaller, more fragile form dissipating, replaced by annoyance at the boy's reaction to just being touched.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" he demanded as Aurelius stormed away. Strask gave him an odd combination of a witheringly protective stare and a sympathetic look, before sighing and explaining, "Aurelius is a Blank. Or, more specifically, a Pariah."

The man quickly elaborated before Samias had chance to ask him what one of those was, "He's the direct opposite of a psyker. I don't really get it myself so it's hard to explain. To put it bluntly he … doesn't have a soul. Not in the way that you or I would understand."

Samias raised his eyebrows, whispering, "No soul?"

He couldn't even begin to comprehend what that meant. Questions swirled round in his mind – _does he feel no emotions at all? But he was definitely angry earlier, right? Maybe he just can't feel positive ones? How can a person become soulless?_

"I know being around him feels … _wrong_. We're all used to it, most of us anyway. Just … try not to let it get to you," Strask said gently, his hesitance to tell them evident. Samias wasn't sure he understood, but then Strask, who had known Aurelius for longer than a few hours, clearly didn't either.

.*.*.

Samias awoke to fire and screaming.

His eyes snapped open, his unfamiliar surroundings disorientating him before he remembered that he wasn't back in his room. A near-deafeningly loud reverberation rippled through the walls around him, causing the whole room to shake.

Samias jumped out of his bed, acting purely through instinct, fumbling for his pistol and gripping it tight. The darkness of whatever part of night it was lit by a fading orange glow emanating through the reinforced plastiglass windows.

With the noise of what must have been an explosion dissipating, the boy could make out other sounds of gunfire and shouting. It all seemed so loud, but he could tell that it wasn't from the corridor directly outside. Whatever was happening, danger had found them once more, and Samias's first priority was to get his friends out of this safe – it was his fault they were here in the first place. Rushing out of the door, he almost crashed straight into Valeria, only just skidding past her.

"Samias! What the hell is going on?" the girl cried, panic flooding her normally calm voice as she gripped the taller teen's shoulders. Michael emerged from his own room only a second later, stumbling towards his other two friends.

Another shockwave, this one a lot closer, sent all three flying. Samias yelped as Valeria tumbled straight into him and landed on his chest, the sound of plascrete rubble crashing into the floor punctuated by the gasps of the girl above him. The lights above them flickered before

"We need to get the fuck out of here!" he shouted over the noise resounding from below them as Val pushed up off of him, gripping her own pistol tightly before offering her other hand to haul the boy to his feet.

Michael pointed down the corridor leading off behind them, babbling, "We could try one of the emergency exits Strask was telling us about, right? Though it sounds like the shooting is coming from all around us so that might not be safe, but we can't exactly just go through the main entrance because we'd definitely get shot then right? Shit shit shit, what do we do?"

"You need to calm down," Val ground out, and Samias could see the supreme effort she was putting on to both make her voice seem like she was following her own advice even a little and not snapping at the panicking boy. "You'll just get us all killed by freaking out!"

"You have your gun, right Mikey?" Samias asked, to which the smaller boy nodded, pulling out the pistol. Samias was painfully aware of the fact that none of them had thought to ask if they could replenish their ammunition, and that with whatever explosive weapon their attackers had they were severely outgunned.

"We need to find the Inquisitor – or his retinue – and stick with them. They're the only way we are gonna get out of this alive," Samias told the two. Val looked as though she was about to argue, her distrust of Inquisitor Julion's motives pretty clear, but as the corridor shook again and another howling shriek echoed up from below them the defiance left her eyes.

"Lead the way then," she conceded. Samias gave her a grim yet grateful nod, glad that they were united in this. He refused to let his friends be hurt because of the foolish heroics that he had pulled earlier in the day.

The boy stalked down the corridor, his gun trained at the end that would lead into the main stairwell. The gunfire from below had mostly stopped now, which worried him a lot. If the Inquisitor's group was all dead or captured, there was little chance of three under-equipped gangers achieving much.

He was tempted to turn around and tell his friends to stay put in the vain hope that whoever was doing this would leave and that they could sneak out later, but that was a stupid idea. If they had come for the Inquisition's presence, they would definitely search the whole safehouse, and the regularity with which they seemed to be using the explosive weapon suggested that there wouldn't be much of the safehouse left once they were finished with it.

The three snuck to the end of the hallway. Samias risked a peak around the door, gulping at the devastation that had been wreaked on the central reception of the building. Figures clad in dark uniforms that made them difficult to identify were combing through the wreckage of the furniture. At least one of them was very plainly dead if the bloody ruin of their chest was anything to go by. Julion's bolt pistol must have been the cause of that.

There were far too many intruders for them to even try and sneak around the upper hallway to the secondary exit. Pulling back into the relative safety of the wall. Samias wracked his brain, trying desperately to remember what Strask had told him about the ways to get out of the building. He had listened carefully, but the adrenaline fuelled fog in his mind made it difficult to recall specific pieces of information.

That was when a black-clad figure walked right into the group, the torch underslung on their rifle blindingly bright as it shone directly into Samias's eyes.

A lasbolt pierced through the back of the person's head and they pitched forwards before they could even scream, a muffled grunt of pain the only acknowledgement to the smoking crater in their face. Aurelius appeared behind them, seemingly nonplussed by the attack as he skirted past the fallen corpse, an illusion which was quickly shattered by his urgent hiss, "You three follow me, before the others notice this one is gone."

Samias barely felt that he could disobey the command even if he had wanted to. Sure enough, as the smallest of the four led them down to the other side, shouting rose up from below them, accompanied by the thudding of boots.

Aurelius quickly tapped a passcode into a door leading into a room to the right, motioning quickly for the others to enter it after he had done so. The automatic door gently shut behind Samias, who had feared it would lock with a loud clang and alert their pursuers to where they had gone. The room was dark, and items that Sam couldn't pick out in the low light were strewn across the floor – probably knocked there by an earlier detonation, though the room itself didn't seem damaged.

Aurelius was already at the window, scanning what little could be seen outside before opening it.

"When we jump down from here, we need to stick to the left wall of the back courtyard. Follow my lead," he directed them tersely, though Samias wasn't certain that having to leap out of the second floor would be helpful in their current endeavour not to attract attention to themselves. Despite Aurelius's voice being mostly blank and stern, a rendition of the Inquisitor's lacking that same commanding resonance and much younger, Sam was sure he could hear a hint of fear in the other boy's tone. It was probably just him projecting his own onto the blonde.

Opening the window so that it was just ajar, Aurelius slipped his lithe form through the gap, elegantly landing without much noise from the medium height jump. Mikey went next, not quite as gracefully as the previous but still without any repercussions. Valeria soon followed, leaving Samias in the dark room alone.

He had to open the window more in order to fit his own bulkier physique out, gently pushing it outwards it in the hopes that no one who might be observing the back of the compound would notice the movement over the sharp opening he could have done.

His heart thudding in his chest, every sound that he was making seemed to be amplified in conjunction with everything else becoming quieter. He was about to jump before another blast rocked the abused building, almost sending him sprawling out of the window. Steadying himself, he took another look outside.

He couldn't see any of Valeria, Michael or Aurelius in the blackness below, though what he could see were the obtrusively bright cones of light lancing across the street and the flickering of orange flames coming from the complex itself.

Suppressing the momentary panic that had almost dragged him into its wretched depths at the fact that he wasn't able to pick out his friends, Samias calmly reminded himself that his lack of vision concerning them meant that their attackers would be subjected to the same.

Taking a deep breath, he leapt to the rockcrete yard below, wincing at the ache in his still-healing gashes as he landed. Thankfully, there was no shouting proceeding his descent, nor a withering hail of gunfire impaling him as he dropped. Only the usual soaking rain came to greet him, and even that was reduced from its torrential intensity earlier in the day.

Sam slunk over to the left wall, letting his eyes adjust to the shade provided by the large separator between this residence's block and the neighbouring ones. He was glad for their sake that patches of darkness still existed in the mid-reaches of the hive, because back when they had been taken through it he had wondered, baselessly, if everything was lit up.

Samias was used to the dark. It had been a near constant companion in the underhive.

When he finally was able to perceive them, the eighteen year old swiftly joined his smaller brethren at the far edge of the complex's outer walls, sticking to the darkness in the hope that it would conceal their escape. The small courtyard which led out of the opposite side to the main entrance was in a sorry state, with debris from the residence itself scattered across it – forming patches of cover that could potentially be exploited.

They laid low as Aurelius led them slowly across it. The back courtyard itself was quite large, a few copses of what would have been shrubbery now interspersed with rubble from the near-destroyed structure they had departed.

Each held their breath, hearts hammering in young chests, as a beam of white flicked across their feet. Near-motionless, Aurelius had his laspistol trained squarely at the rifleman who had brushed the illumination over them, a kill shot primed. Luckily, they hadn't noticed the four retreating in their midst, and quickly began to sprint off as gunfire echoed from back within the compound. They were soon reinforced by three others, like hounds drawn to the scent of unfolding violence.

"Now's our chance," the blonde whispered, almost so quiet as to be unheard, before near-sprinting to the next piece of debris, a jutting slab of felled rockcrete that had collapsed from one of the obliterated rooms above.

A sharp intake of breath halted Samias as he knelt down next to Aurelius.

"Oh no…" Michael uttered quietly, the boy's voice having progressed from a carefully suppressed alarm into open horror. There, half buried beneath the rubble, was Idris.

Lit in the wan flickering of lasfire and flames from the compound behind them reflecting off the pool of blood surrounding him, the man's upper body poked out from underneath the rock which had crushed him.

"Idris…" Samias murmured, shutting his eyes for a short moment before reopening them, as if he had expected the corpse to disappear and the savant to still be alive. Because that was what he undeniably was – a corpse, crimson fluid leaking from lips twisted into a grimace, unbreathing and dead, augmetic eyes that were no different to when he was alive staring off into the distance.

"Emperor, he's dead … oh Emperor, he's dead …" Michael repeated, before placing his hands over his mouth as if he was about to vomit. Aurelius touched the Aquilla on the choker round his throat, murmuring what must have been a silent benediction for his comrade's soul, before slipping something from his belt.

"What are you doing?" Val almost yelled with revulsion as the Interrogator stabbed an ornate combat knife into the side of Idris's left eye, carefully using it as leverage to wrench the man's eye out from its socket with his fingers. The metal spheroid was trailed by a series of wires that came free in a spray of blood.

"Idris's ocular augmetics store everything he has seen. We can't have that sort of information falling into the wrong hands," Aurelius elucidated levelly, his tone as flat as usual as if he hadn't just torn someone's eye out. With the help of his knife, he ripped the other out, before stashing the removed machinery in his pocket.

The sound of the firefight behind them was dying down. Or at least that was what Samias initially believed, before he heard it again, only further away but with equal intensity.

"We should go back and help them," he voiced, gazing at Aurelius with determination prevalent in his ocean green eyes. He felt the need to enact vengeance on whoever was responsible for this, now that it was certain they had blood on their hands. Samias hadn't know Idris long at all, but he had liked the man, and now any opportunity to further that budding amiability between them had been brutally cut short.

"No. The rest of the team are capable of handling themselves," Aurelius stated flatly, meeting his challenging stare with something that could be considered forceful – at least in comparison to his normally empty gaze.

Samias was about to argue, hiss that it would be cowardly of them to abandon the others now that they were in a perfect position to attack from behind, before the younger added: "We'd be outnumbered and outmatched. And there's still plenty in our path to kill before we get out."

"Fuck he's dead, he's dead. And we're next" Michael whimpered, and Samias turned to see Valeria wrapping her arms around the other Chrome Fang in what she obviously hoped was a comforting hug before pulling back and gripping his shoulders tightly. He then swallowed. Whilst he might have wanted to hit the bastards from behind, his stupidity in doing a similar thing earlier in the day had directly resulted in Mikey and him almost dying and the trio being in this precarious situation now.

Michael was panicking, and though Val was holding up better it wasn't by much. Dragging them into another fight when they were exhausted as it was would just end up getting them killed. He had already unnecessarily risked their lives twice today, and abandoned them when the Red Eyes had revealed themselves in District Elestra. He wouldn't do it again.

Aurelius slowly rose, already deducing which would be the best way out of the packed courtyard. Samias knelt beside his trembling friend, grasping onto a wiry bicep and squeezing it tight, murmuring soothingly, "Hey, Mikey. I'm not gonna let them hurt you, ok? You're gonna be fine. We're all gonna be just fine, right Val?"

"Right," the girl replied. Samias wished his voice hadn't been shaking, wished he could have projected a stronger image of protection to one of his best friends, but couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Are you finished? We need to move," Aurelius's blunt words cut through Michael's quiet sobs. Sam felt a swell of anger at the other boy's insensitive nature, snapping back with: "We aren't all like you. We aren't all used to this. Just give us a moment."

 _We aren't all soulless freaks,_ was what a part of him, a part of him that was still deeply revulsed by the blonde's unsettling, _wrong_ , aura, wanted him to yell, but antagonising the other boy for no real reason would only hurt their cause. Besides, Aurelius was right, and he was risking his life helping the three of them. It was evident that he could probably have stealthily escaped by now on his own without them slowing him down.

"No … I'm fine. Aurelius is right. Let's go," Michael stood, unsteadily, and stepped behind the slightly smaller blonde.

Samias and Val shared a worried glance, before carefully standing themselves. There wasn't a huge amount of the courtyard left, and beyond that were the twisting streets of the hive – and whoever was backing up this attack – to contend with.


	3. Violence in the Dark

" _To die without purpose is not a service."_

 _-Thought for the day._

Aurelius stepped silently into the unfolding night, though there was little need for auditory stealth with the panicked screaming rising up from those from the neighbouring structures who had begun to react to the devastation in their midst.

It was a far cry from the blind eye turned by the citizens of District Elestra, the boy reflected, but supposed that those on the cusp of the nefarious undercity would have been more accustomed to violence. Whoever had perpetrated this assault certainly hadn't cared for keeping their presence masked to the wider district, that was for certain, although he severely doubted that any trace of it would be left for the Arbitrators to uncover anything from – if indeed the masked assailants weren't in league with them already.

His young age and small stature had made him a good candidate for any stealth missions, though the constant aura of unease that he inflicted on others merely through proximity counteracted what he could gain from his innocent appearance – even with the Animus crystal at his throat suppressing it. He was confident that the numerous holes in their formation and the distraction provided by the others in the team would be easily exploited. Thus he was well equipped to evade detection and slip through the net that was being closed by these unknown soldiers around the Inquisitorial retinue.

The same could not necessarily be said for the three gangers following him. Because of that, and because of the increase in numbers, Aurelius was coming up with his plan of action on the go.

 _Into the streets, and then into a more crowded area of the city. But there's not really enough cover for four of us to sneak out undetected._

If the Inquisitor hadn't been so insistent that the gangers came with them then Aurelius would have had no qualms about leaving them behind. But now they were witnesses and knew of Julion's plans, and thus valuable. Besides, his master had undeniably seen something in Samias at the very least, what with how he had risked his life for them when they had become embroiled in the conflict with the Red Eyes.

Aurelius personally thought it might have just been part of a gang feud, but he wasn't about to question Julion's penchant for putting everyone around him to the service of the Emperor. Besides, a few of those already in the Inquisitor's squadron had come from much more disreputable backgrounds than an underhive gang.

The blonde stayed as low as he could without restricting his movement too much as they passed through the outer edge of the back garden (if it could be called that in spite of its relative lack of flora) to the street beyond.

From the relative density of flashlights spilling luminescence into the rain-filled darkness, Aurelius estimated that about a third of the total force attacking them was on this back street. Obviously a few of them wouldn't be using their lights and would prefer to keep hidden – it was the oldest trick in night warfare – but too large an assault unit would make traversing the hive without detection impossible.

Painfully aware of the three gangers, who had no knowledge of this area of Hive Enchellus or how things would work above the underhive, Aurelius motioned for them to stay down and follow his lead. It wasn't really the best plan, especially since one false move from the hivers could end in them shredded by autofire, but sitting down and having a nice discussion about the most effective course of action wasn't exactly feasible.

They reached the outer gates which had been kicked open, taking up positions in the cover of the connecting wall.

"You have your guns?" Aurelius inquired quietly as he peeked past the corner. As expected, most of their foes had already rushed into the house and would be pursuing the rest of the group (sans Idris, of course), leaving behind a few to either deter anyone else from intervening or catch escaping stragglers such as themselves.

The question wasn't really a necessary one – he had seen all three holding them back inside the safehouse – but Aurelius wanted them focussed on the task at hand. He wasn't blind to how Michael had panicked at the sight of Idris, and him ripping out the man's augmetics, as necessary as it was, probably hadn't aided the matter.

"There's three of them on the other side of the street. I can take out the two on the left, and you three can kill the third and cover me," the Pariah muttered. He hated putting his fate in the hands of others, but that was the most efficient tactic he could come up with in the limited time that they possessed. A protracted firefight, which he would much prefer, would not be too fast to prevent the alerting of any other enemies, so the riskier path had to be taken.

 _Well, Emperor protect me from a misfired bullet in the back I suppose._

He titled his head so that he could see the gangers' individual motions of assent, before tightening his grip of his trusty hotshot laspistol and launching himself out into a sprinting dash.

Aurelius fired two quick lasbolts into the first of those he had targeted, weaving back into the cover of the other wall before he could check whether or not the man was dead. Predictably enough, a burst of blindingly bright streaks followed him, the amount of it signalling that the one he had shot was too wounded to join his comrade in the retort.

Aurelius had counted thirteen high-power return shots. _What a waste. One could even say amateurish._

Standard issue Astra Militarum photon-mags had enough power output for twenty of a similar level and Aurelius knew that it took a few seconds to adjust the intensity of the bolts – only a veteran of the weapon would have the calm to adjust it in the middle of danger.

The three gangers were still hidden behind the other side of the gate, pistols trained on where the attacker on the right had hunkered down and begun to wait to shoot Aurelius in the back if he showed himself again. From their posture he could tell that they were itching to act, especially Samias.

Hiding behind a place right next to where he had burst out from was less than ideal, but the street leading out from the back of the safehouse was heavily lacking in cover aside from the outer walls separating out each apartment's so there was no other choice.

It served him well enough for now. Catching the eye of Samias, Aurelius flicked his pistol out of the open gate and fired a single shot blindly in the general direction of the two on the left.

As he had expected, a sizzling response scorched the air as he quickly pulled his arm back, two beams of light that had come close to impacting into his wrist originating from both sides of the street. The three gangers opened fire, screams of pain and the thudding impact of solid shell rounds into flesh telling Aurelius that the assailant on the right was now slain – having probably exposed herself in trying to get at him during his feint.

Aurelius sprinted out of cover once more, firing his pistol into the last of them that had emerged with the death of their comrades, then jerked back as more lasfire scorched blinding imprints into his retinas as it flashed across his face.

The Interrogator stumbled, before twisting the Animus embedded into the Aquilla at his throat. A wave of unnatural clarity rippled through the street in front of him, a fraction of the Null power locked inside of him by the dark crystal he always wore released into the night.

The second volley that would have certainly pierced his heart went wide as the firer of it screamed in sheer terror, their sudden howls mixed with whimpering sobs as they scrambled away from their hiding place.

 _Stupid,_ Aurelius cursed himself. It had been the first one he had shot – wounded, but otherwise very much alive – that had almost taken his life. With his own hellpistol still recharging, he pulled out the elegant combat knife sheathed at his belt, leaping forwards onto the mewling man and stabbing the blade deep into the unprotected section of their neck.

The blonde wrenched the knife, making sure that his enemy was dead this time as blood fountained from the gaping wound, coating Aurelius's gloves in sticky warmth. He yanked the blade out, giving it a quick shake to remove as much of the crimson staining it as possible and motioning to the gangers that they were safe to continue as he tried to quench the spiking adrenaline rush.

"Come on. Let's move," he snapped, irritated that he had been careless and almost killed because of it, and that now his gloves and the sleeves of his black jacket were covered in blood – not constructive to their objective of slipping away undetected.

He shot an annoyed glance over to the three underhivers when he didn't hear the patter of footsteps on the plascrete ground, before belatedly realising that he hadn't reduced the intensity of the Null energy rippling with sharp darkness in the night air around him.

Spinning back around, in equal measures to avoid the shocked gazes of his current allies and to set off down the street, Aurelius twisted the Animus, biting his lip as his Pariah nature was contained within him once again. He ignored the return of his near constant companion, a buzzing headache that would always remind him of what he was even if the reactions of others around him didn't.

He had heard – and seen, though only from a large distance – that psychic powers themselves were much worse than what he had to deal with, though to counterbalance that they were erratic and unpredictable. Aurelius's dubious gift could always be relied upon for background pain when it had to be contained.

Mentally plotting out a route through the district that would lead them both out of danger and into somewhere they could blend into either the night crowds or shadows, the boy's train of thought was suddenly broken by a cry behind him.

"Look out!" a voice screamed, and Aurelius began to turn towards the source of the warning before he was knocked off his feet by a large form barrelling into him. Twisting mid-air, the blonde avoided being winded but still crashed into the hard ground.

A shrieking wail howled into his eardrums before elongating into a deeper _whoosh_ as contrails of flame streaked overhead. Aurelius instinctively managed to shut his eyes before an explosion of fiery light supplanted the dark of night, the brightness that would have been etched behind his eyelids diminished by the body on top of him.

Samias gazed desperately at him from where their faces were almost touching, a rumbling crescendo of noise crashing over the two, soon followed by the crumbling of rockcrete. As time almost seemed to slow, Aurelius wondered if his own icy blue eyes would be reflecting the mix of panic and courage in the other boy's, or if they only held their customary soulless gaze. He could hear a number of inventive expletives coming from the silver haired boy, although they seemed distant because of the deafening nature of the explosion.

Aurelius squirmed slightly, the weight of the taller boy draped over him like a protective shield pinning him to the ground. Samias didn't move at first, as if in shock he had actually thrown himself into extreme danger, before pushing himself up with hands either side of Aurelius's head.

The ganger grabbed the Interrogator's wrist as he did so, yanking the other teenager to his feet in one swift motion before dragging him into a sprint and letting go, yelling: "Come on, before they fire another!"

Had they not been in the same situation, Aurelius would have questioned how Samias didn't even hesitate before touching him, but instead he simply ran after the other boy. He was grateful that Valeria had the foresight to lay down a few shots in an attempt to cover their retreat, and would have joined her in that effort if he wasn't already running for his life.

He scrambled past the burning ruin of the building the frag missile had crashed into, too preoccupied to question why in the name of holy Terra their assailants had tried to use such heavy weaponry to kill one person

Lungs burning, Aurelius ran after Samias, trying to keep a mental track of where they were – certain that the other boy was sprinting blindly – and wishing he was leading them so that they would be taking a route which would grant more cover or opportunity to slip away. It seemed unwise to waste breath shouting to Samias that he should be the one directing them, so instead the Null channelled his attention into his pounding footsteps.

Samias was fast. Aurelius knew he himself was fit – he had been trained since he was only just past infancy to be, and his Inquisitorial service had forced him to hone both body and mind in service to the God Emperor if he wished to survive – but he had to push himself to his limit to keep up with the ganger.

Aurelius wasn't sure he had ever seen a hive as quiet at night as this one, though those in the street they had just left seemed to be finally responding to the devastation unfolding within their neighbourhood if the shouts of alarm followed shortly by screams of pain and terror were anything to go by.

The boy swept his natural concern for the innocent lives lost away – sacrifices had to be made in the name of the wider Imperium, and their executions would be buying time for the soldiers' original targets to elude them. Whoever had attacked them clearly weren't afraid of the consequences of obliterating anything in their path – indicating that they had a plan for either dealing with them or wouldn't be subject in the first place.

Perhaps their prying into the noble houses had finally been noticed.

Apparently a brief respite from the near endless downpour was all the four would be afforded, as the heavens opened once again, raining down upon the retreating youths and soaking them to the bone within a few seconds. Once again, Aurelius cursed Karvonis IV and its inclement weather, despite the fact that it was definitely the least of their concerns.

The sizzling of lasfire in the rain faded as they ran, Michael's verbal train of profanity halted in favour of conserving breath. Aurelius expected to be cut down by a volley of incandescent death at any moment, but as they ran further and further away from the destroyed safehouse the fire never came.

Samias suddenly turned on his heel, and it took a moment for the Null to register that Michael had fallen behind them – a grunt of pain instead of a scream telling him that it was the boy either tripping or slipping up in the relentless rain.

He didn't turn to help, trusting that the other two gangers would attend to their own. Besides, it wasn't as if his assistance would do anything other than make his skin crawl and evoke revulsion.

Samias abandoning his station at the front of the group at least meant that Aurelius could lead the way now. Ignoring the multitude of different poundings in his skull from overexertion, fear that he wouldn't ever admit to and the usual suppression of his Pariah nature, the seventeen year old brought up his incomplete mental map of Hive Enchellus.

They still hadn't exited District Loriath, skirting at the edges so far. The direction in which they had blindly ran was roughly north-westerly, thus to get to Enchellus's starport – the rendezvous point in the event of the Inquisitorial retinue coming under severe attack – they would have to take an eastern curl through the general trading areas and marketplaces of this somewhat wealthy section of the metropolis.

He would make the decision as to whether or not to use the monorails that would cut their journey by at least five hours when they got to the station. It wasn't clear right now if they were being pursued, but it seemed unlikely that opponents willing to use such drastic measures would give up so easily.

His own crashing footsteps alongside the pattering rain muffled out almost anything else apart from the sounds of those running behind him. Breathing through his nose and trying to keep his exhalations at a steady rhythm was slowly failing him the longer he kept running. It was the most he had been forced to do in a long while, not with them sticking to more covert and information based operations after the disaster on Medlia's Sepulchre.

Spotting a small alcove on the empty side road they were running through, Aurelius held up his hand before skidding to a halt and taking shelter from the rain inside it. His control of his breathing, not perfect despite the technique being taught to him years ago, instantly slipped, and the boy almost doubled over with the desperate pants for air which had been building up in him.

The three hivers clustered on the other side of the small alcove, still close to Aurelius and yet irrefutably separate.

"We should … rest here for a few minutes," Aurelius eked out between gasps, unsurprised that there were no protests against the suggestion with the pace they had been pulling.

"Emperor's arse … what the fuck have we got into?" Michael lamented in the gaps interspersed with his own pants, sitting down wearily and burying his soaking hair in his hands. The blonde had to repress the biting admonishment at the blasphemy that was snapping at the edge of his tongue, too much time around Strask and the ex-guardsman's own propensity towards irreverence obviously affecting him.

He wondered if the rest of Inquisitor Julion's retinue had made their way out. It occurred to him, that, for the first time in a while, he was truly without any of the Inquisitor's acolytes working alongside him. Julion had always liked to keep him close as a deterrent against any opportunistic psykers, and then with his recent progression into the role of Interrogator his superior wanted him to learn as much as he could.

He knew that it was pointless to worry, that Strask and the Inquisitor and everyone else could handle themselves in a fight. So he didn't. They were the closest thing he had to a family, but besides some familiarity there wasn't much affection between any of them and him. Not after he had lost so much on Medlia's Sepulchre. But it was hard not to feel a little concern, especially with what had already happened.

Idris's augmetic eyes were burning a hole in his coat pocket. The loss didn't sting, at least not as much as it perhaps should have. The savant had been nothing if not cordial and polite to him, not actively avoiding interacting with him as some of the other new members were. But he hadn't known the man well, hadn't _bothered_ to, and that was mutual, so it was difficult to muster up sadness for someone he had only ever talked to when they needed to.

Aurelius bade himself leave the dark corner of his mind reserved for his own emotions. He needed to focus if they were going to reach the rendezvous point and complete the mission.

"Mikey, you trust me, right?" there was a tremble to Samias's own voice; Aurelius wasn't intimate with human emotion enough to know whether it was from fear or exhaustion. The silver haired teen nodded sullenly, his taller friend clapping on the shoulder in what was clearly meant to be a reassuring gesture of friendship. Aurelius watched the interaction whilst he regained his breath – and composure, trying to push down the feeling of loneliness that had bubbled up.

"We're gonna make it out of this. We've made it out of every sticky situation before now. I _won't_ let anyone hurt you or Val," Samias's voice became something akin to a protective growl, squeezing his best friend's shoulder tight and raising his free fist. Mikey brushed sodden hair out of his eyes, sniffed, and bumped his own smaller fist against the other ganger's, knuckles white from how hard he was clenching his hand.

Aurelius wanted to look away, leave them to what should have been a more private moment and scan the street for potential threats, but found that he couldn't. It wasn't fair. He had witnessed this sort of thing numerous times, even within the Inquisitor's retinue, so it shouldn't affect him in the way it did – and yet petty envy still reared its lonely head inside of his chest. It reminded him of a time long ago, a time he wished he could have back.

 _Stop this. Stop being pathetic. Your gift is more important than this. The powers you can wield are worth the sacrifice, even if that sacrifice was an involuntary one._

The smallest of the four waited for a moment before interrupting, coughing to get their attention. They span around, as if forgetting that there was a fourth member to their group ( _I'm fine with that. Better neglect than distaste_ ), and he began, "We need to head east, towards District LXXIV and take the monorail from there. The rendezvous point is one of the temporary apartments in the east-most starport. We'll regroup with the rest of the squad there, and- "

" _We_ don't need to head anywhere," Valeria cut him off sharply, turning almost hostile eyes upon him. Samias snapped his head towards her, eyebrows raised in surprised incredulity. He had – wrongly, apparently – assumed the inclination would be that they would continue to remain with the Inquisition. But that was back when there had been the whole retinue and Julion himself demanding their acquiescence.

Now that there was only a single member of that secretive, terrifying organisation here it wouldn't be too challenging to fight their way out if they had to – Aurelius had already displayed that he was an intensely competent killer, but there was three of them and Samias reckoned he could subdue the smaller boy without the need for guns.

Only that was assuming he would not just let them depart without violence or that Samias wanted to leave him alone and abandon the Inquisitor's mission in the first place. He didn't. Despite many in Hive Enchellus not paying a single thought to the underhivers who lived in the gutters of their vast city, Samias would be lying if he said he wasn't concerned with helping them at all – not with what they had learned was at stake.

And that was ignoring the threat of Exterminatus Inquisitor Julion had mentioned. Samias was sure that Valeria wouldn't want their world to be consumed in fire and death as much as he didn't, but was acting this way because of the danger they had been thrust directly into and her desire to safeguard her friends.

Aurelius gave her the most witheringly apathetic (Samias hadn't known before now that disinterest could be so derisive but the Interrogator had apparently perfected such an expression) gaze he had witnessed before the boy so far, before almost nonchalantly asking: "So you memorised the route back to District Elestra?"

He watched as the stupidity of the girl's question finally registered, her defiant look contorting into meekness as he turned away from his own blank eyes. His presumption that the three underhivers hadn't ventured far into the mid-levels of the hive was confirmed. Truth be told, he hadn't wanted to force them to come along with him, if more due to the disruption and extra effort it would cause than caring about the gangers.

Yet Inquisitor Julion wished for them to accompany this new line of investigation, so it would be remiss of Aurelius to let them be killed, or worse, captured. So, as much as he disliked the prospect, they were his responsibility.

"We'll come with you," Samias spoke to him, most likely trying to save face for his friend. He stepped closer to the smaller male, forcing Aurelius to have to tilt his head upwards, although it was clear that Samias wasn't attempting to intimidate him. "Just lead the way."

Aurelius nodded, concluding that they had taken up sufficient time for a break. He tried not to let his nerves show, affecting his usual well-curated air of indifferent disdain in an attempt to hide it, ignoring the eyes trained to his back as he warily set off back into the street.

"So … how far away is the starport?" Michael inquired, falling into step alongside the Interrogator. He tried and failed not to be mildly annoyed by this development. It had obviously been silently agreed that Michael be placed between the three more competent members of their rag-tag group. Aurelius couldn't fault the other two's decision to put the liability in the middle where there was the lowest probability of him compromising their stealth, but he could fault the boy's almost incessant need to fill any form of silence with conversation.

Aurelius could at least derive some mixed comfort from the fact that the silver-haired youth had placed himself a reasonable distance away from him. Even if that was more due to his Null aura that saturated the air than anything else.

"You know, it probably wouldn't kill you to be friendly," Michael mumbled when it became clear that no reply was forthwith coming. Aurelius let out a long-suffering sigh, giving a blank glare towards the other boy. He had believed that his nature as a Pariah had, as to be expected, dissuaded any of them but Samias from talking to him, but even that was not sufficient to quell the boy's nervous chatter.

Michael held up his hands in apology, exclaiming (though thankfully quietly), "Or maybe it will, I don't know how soulless people work."

The Interrogator felt a streak of irritation cutting through his thoughts. _So Strask's told them, has he? It's not his knowledge to give._

The blonde knew, rationally, that it was impossible to avoid the conversation with those anticipated to spend a relatively large amount of time with them. It was pathetic that it still hurt, but then it was his defining feature, his only feature of worth. His Pariah gene set him apart, but he refused to believe that it was anything other than the Emperor's gift so that he could smite the Witch and resist the Demon, not just a random quirk in his genetic code that led to him being treated as a tool – a portable anti-psyker repellent - at best.

"It will be five hours on foot. We can cut that down to three by taking the monorail," he resolved to indulge the boy with a curt answer. He didn't relish the thought of that, though tried to repress the thoughts. It wouldn't be of any help to get frustrated with others when his attention needed to be focussed on the mission at hand.

He was just … _sensitive_ , after being touched twice in one night. His skin still burned where Samias's big hand had clamped over his shoulder, where he had laid his body over Aurelius's in order to protect him from the frag missile.

 _This always happens after you're in physical contact with another person. You just need to balance your humours, and you'll be back to your usual self._ Yet in spite of the mental reassurance, Aurelius couldn't shake the feeling of the older boy's touch lingering on his skin.

"That's a long way to go," Michael broke the awkward silence that had descended. _Indeed. And it will seem even longer if you keep talking-_

Aurelius saw motion at the end of the street, but before he could react Samias had already hushed any further sound with a short, "Shhh."

He was thankful that someone else was at least paying attention, and Samias's perception was military grade. Narrowing his eyes, he spotted one of the same black-clad soldiers that had launched the attack in the night in the first place almost casually patrolling the street.

"There doesn't look to be any others," Val whispered, turning towards Samias as the four spread out slowly, indicating that she deferred to him in whatever course of action they would take – an interesting choice considering Aurelius had taken the lead so far. It wasn't that strange considering they had clearly been through action in the past (or Samias's intervention that had resulted in the gang members falling under Inquisitorial jurisdiction ended in a way that was more that improbably lucky) but it irked to know that if they disagreed he might have to actually argue instead of them accepting his commands as they had up to this point.

"I can take this one out," Samias muttered, eyes momentarily drifting over to Aurelius, who signalled his assent with a curt nod. The soldier's equipment did not possess any of the tell-tale signs for vox communication, otherwise Aurelius would have ordered that they retrace their steps and take a different route through the sprawling back-alleys of the mercantile districts.

He attempted to think of what Inquisitor Julion would be considering in such a situation. The incredibly focussed man underwent the daunting task of constantly testing and assessing the capabilities of those comprising his own retinue and beyond whilst still devoting the upmost concentration to prosecuting his own goals. His master pushed those who served under him to their limits, always extorting them to reaching their fullest potential in the service of Holy Terra.

Aurelius supposed that, as an Interrogator, not only was it his duty to flourish in these tests – whether intentionally set or not – but to apply the same methodology to those around him. To that end, he was content with Samias displaying whether or not he could eliminate their oblivious foe silently.

He didn't know what Julion had seen in the three, whether it was the raw bravery they had shown or something deeper, but that didn't mean he shouldn't try to ascertain it. Now that he had progressed from rare tool to valued student in the eyes of the Inquisitor, he had begun to understand more of an inkling concerning how he operated – and endeavoured to emulate it as much as was possible.

Samias was almost silent as he hugged the wall, stalking slowly towards the soldier, his pistol still attached to his belt – though the other three had theirs trained firmly upon the person with their back to them. Aurelius kept his eyes on the taller boy as well as their surroundings, scanning what he could see of the apartment blocks either side of them and trying not to imagine every wayward glint of reflected light as an ambusher ready to attack.

Samias forced his breaths to quieten as he inched forwards, halting in the darkness when the warrior swerved his lasgun over his position in a lazy arc across the entire street view. He paused, reaching down to a strap at his belt an unclipping what looked to the boy to be a dataslate, a lapse in his concentration that the ganger was quick to exploit.

Samias jutted forwards, swiping at the man's legs with his own whilst simultaneously wrapping an arm around his throat, pushing his other arm round the back of his opponent's neck and squeezing hard as he tripped forwards. They slammed into the ground, the lasrifle scattering out of reach.

The blood choke was quick to apply – the black clad soldier let out a strangled gasp of surprise at the ambush before combat instincts asserted themselves, thrashing in an attempt to get the boy pinning him face-first into hard rockcrete to release his hold and jabbing back with his elbows, but by then it was too late for him.

Samias held onto his constricting grip for a few more seconds after the soldier's spasms began to abate, ensuring that he was truly unconscious before he let go – he should really have snapped the man's neck, but instead he hesitated. Killing a beaten enemy had never sat well with him, in spite of the fact that he had only ever had to do it once.

"Nice job, Sammy," Michael congratulated as the three who had been waiting emerged.

"We've got ten seconds or so until he wakes up. We can restrain him, or I can choke him out again," Samias spoke tersely, still trapping the man's unconscious form beneath his weight in case he started to stir. Aurelius paced round to the front of him, scooping up the discarded firearm as he did so, and placed the barrel of the gun at the back of the soldier's helmeted head.

He motioned for Samias to move before pulling the trigger. The taller boy cringed back as the lasbolt pierced the man's helm – scant protection at this range - scoring through his head and leaving a steaming caricature of skull in its wake.

Aurelius didn't even flinch as he ended the life, kneeling down to flip the body over and rifle through the contents of his belt. Samias noted that the Interrogator had already pocketed the dataslate.

Merciless efficiency seemed to define the blonde, never an action wasted when they were in a combat situation. Many other men, Samias included, would often give pause before killing another person, or at the very least afterwards if they were no longer in direct danger.

 _But then again, I suppose the little freak doesn't have a soul. He probably doesn't even consider the consequences of ending a life, past what information or usefulness might be lost through such an act._

Samias shook his head, ignoring the black tendrils of revulsion and hate that he felt coiling in his mind at the proximity of Aurelius, who he realised was holding something out to him.

"You do know how to use a laspistol, don't you?" he asked with a hint of scorn, though perhaps Samias was imagining it. He took the proffered weapon, before he changed his mind and handed it to Michael with an encouraging murmur Aurelius didn't quite catch.

 _I gave it to you because you seem the most competent Samias. I didn't want it wasted on either of the other two, especially not him._ Aurelius kept his thoughts to himself, reminding himself that when he saw Maratha (an unorthodox Mechanicum adept taken under the Inquisitor's wing) again he needed to ask for her to modify his hellpistol to use standard laspistol charges. Having to constantly be frugal with ammunition was hampering his combat ability in protracted scenarios.

"Stay alert. There could easily be more of them," Valeria cut in, her admonishing tone directed towards the other ganger boys as they continued on. Aurelius sent her what was supposed to be a somewhat grateful glance for re-establishing that they were still in an incredibly tense situation, but knowing his capability for expression it probably looked no different from his usual gaze. She continued, staring slightly above the Interrogator instead of meeting his soulless eyes, "What do we do about this one then?"

"Leave the body. We don't have time to dispose of it," he replied, "We need to move. As far as I could discern he wasn't connected to any comms system, but it shouldn't be long until his comrades notice his elimination."

And with that, they took off again.

.*.*.*.

After leading the rag-tag band through numerous spiralling alleyways and then cavernous avenues filled with citizens trudging about their night shifts in the sleepless hive (the Inquisitor had taught him the virtue of hiding in plain sight), Aurelius and the hivers finally arrived at the outskirts of District LXXIV's monorail station.

It was early morning now, the blackness of a starless night slowly replaced by pollution-choked grey as Karvonis's sun reached weak fingers of light into the smog filled atmosphere. The night may have ended, but the cold drizzle that had persisted throughout it did not. It was a fine, misty rain instead of the pounding torrents from earlier, although it still drenched Aurelius and made him wish again that he had thought to bring something waterproof with him in the panic of the night attack.

Yet neither that nor the cascading downpours of before that they had been unable to seek shelter from washed the tingling sensation of being touched that still lingered on his skin, despite his best efforts to ignore it.

Conversation was stilted at best, tiredness and general misery of being soaked to the bone halting any attempts any of the hive natives made before they really began.

They were stood in line for the next train to the starport, surrounded by hivers draped in labouring overalls. Aurelius had considered taking the faster and smaller locomotive that ferried more skilled personnel – landing craft pilots, Mechanicum techpriests and factorium officials come to collect shipments – but didn't want to attract undue attention to them, even if his three companions didn't quite look the part of underhive gangers with the clothing they had been provided.

Besides, even if work at the eastern starport was unending, there were enough trains for human cargo such that any waiting would embark relatively quickly – the constant flow of humanity well catered for by the enormous rail system.

 _I suppose that's one thing about Hive Enchellus to admire. But then, no expense is spared in maximising profits for the nobilitae._

He spared a glance behind him at Michael, who gazed with wonder at the skies above. Numerous landing craft, ugly and squat atmospheric ships that nonetheless performed their roles well, carried shipments from the vessels above the planet, raw materials from Karvonis II akin to the hive's lifeblood taken to the surface via the bulky craft. Though the starport itself was still far away, the ships were clearly visible to the naked eye, especially since the port's location at the edge of this tier of the hive meant that there were no jutting spires blocking the view.

"Try not to look so obvious," he muttered, and the silver haired youth's face creased apologetically – though his eyes remained fixed on the sluggish yet deliberate dance of the ships above. Aurelius felt a small yet sharp pang of something akin to remorse, recalling a time when he was so fascinated by everything and disliking that he had to quash Michael's own clear marvelling at something he would have only ever heard about.

He suppressed the small rise of emotion, knowing that the ripples would lead to a surging tide of unacceptable melancholy if he didn't cull them right now.

After fifteen minutes or so (Aurelius had always possessed a knack for keeping track of time, but tiredness was beginning to wear that talent down) they reached the front of one of the many queues they had joined. An Arbites enforcer, black uniform dripping in the constant drizzle of moisture, reached out a large hand.

"Identification, please," he ground out in a monotonous voice, sounding about as tired as Aurelius felt. The boy handed over his own personal dataslate that he had snagged from his room earlier, ensuring he stood a reasonable distance from the man as to reduce the effects of his Pariah nature – he wished for this to go smoothly, and had already placed his Animus on the maximum suppression.

The man skimmed bored eyes over the false identity that was provided, before passing the dataslate back to the boy with a languid nod, raising the barrier separating him from the inner station. Aurelius knew he didn't look quite rough enough to be a manual labourer, but the identification the slate given held fit all Administratum records and it was obvious the Enforcer wasn't going to question every slightly strange person that passed.

He walked past, acting surprised when another "Identification, please," was intoned to Michael. The blonde spun, careful to leave just enough time so that it didn't seem like he had anticipated this scenario but not enough so that the uninterested Arbiter would have Michael removed from the premises for not possessing the proper permits for accessing the starport.

The ganger's panicked eyes met with Aurelius's icy ones before the smaller boy cut in with a confused, "Officer, his documents were with mine. So are theirs," as he pointed to Valeria and Samias.

"Let me see that," the man snapped, impatiently grabbing at the confidently proffered dataslate and scanning the files within more ferociously than before. After a moment, the space behind Samias beginning to fill up as the steady flow of workers halted, the Arbiter nodded curtly, shoving the faintly glowing slate back towards Aurelius and waving them through irritably as if they were wasting his time.

The three hivers hurried through the raised barrier to join the Interrogator on the other side. The major monorail train was already there, a brutalist hulk of plascrete and metal that belched huge plumes of smoke into the air comprising over thirty huge, windowless carriages that each seemed like they could hold a thousand men.

The train was one of many that would be arriving at the eastern port from different regions of the hive – indeed, Aurelius had already travelled on one leading out of the port to another district when they had first made landfall on Karvonis IV.

They embarked, able to find weathered and uncomfortable seats on an empty region of the carriage in spite of the numbers boarding – scant in comparison to the maximum capacity of the locomotive (which would probably be reached in a few hours).

"Ahhh. It feels good to sit down," Samias sighed, almost contentedly, as he spread out on the seat next to Aurelius. Michael and Valeria, sat opposite (Aurelius wasn't surprised that the two who had directly followed him chose the furthest distance they could without sitting in another set of seats), nodded and smiled empathetically. Even Aurelius relaxed limbs that had been tensed for hours straight, happy to be out of the rain, though ensured that he remained huddled in his seat – as lounging like Samias was doing would cause contact between the two.

"How did you get your slate to show that we had permits to board? Did you make fake identities for us already?" Michael burst out, as if the act of holding the inquiry in until they were out of earshot of anyone else had caused him physical pain.

Aurelius knew that this was where others in the Inquisitorial retinue would grin, but even with that knowledge he couldn't bring himself to fake one. Instead, he resolved to follow what his master would do and impart some stern advice, although his own voice would not carry that same authoritative resonance.

"I didn't," he replied simply, tempted to leave it there (there was already a precedent for such actions), but instead elucidated, "the Administratum holds thousands, if not millions, of labourer records. The Enforcer wasn't going to sift through all of them just to verify the identity of three. The Imperium's vast bureaucracy is in theory an extremely efficient system, but it is unwieldy. I just used the identities set up for the others and passed them off as yours with a little confidence."

Michael nodded with a small hum, eyes betraying that he was deeply considering the Interrogator's words. With an unholy screeching of gears and the roaring of combustion engines, the monorail train began to move, but aside from that a silence descended.

"So, why _are_ you helping us?" Valeria asked tersely, pinning down Aurelius with her gaze without meeting his own, which diminished the effect somewhat.

 _Never one to truly drop your guard then, Valeria,_ Aurelius mused, wishing that he had a window to stare out of instead of having to look at the hivers. He noted that with all three of them surrounding him, their position could be considered intimidating, and perhaps he would have suffered shivers of fear had he been more capable of emotion.

"Yeah, I mean – you could have just left us. I know the Inquisitor wants us, but you didn't have to risk your life," Samias added, dispelling the tension that had suddenly pervaded the stuffy, recycled air of the carriage. Aurelius attempted to suppress an uncomfortable flinch as the taller boy stretched out a large arm as if about to rest it over the blonde's thin shoulders. He was prepared to snap as Samias laid it out over the top of his neighbour's seat, but the youth had clearly taken the hint and pulled it back, flashing an awkwardly apologetic smile.

"Honestly, if I could trade you three for the book I left behind then I would," Aurelius said. His voice was bereft of any inflection or teasing lilt, so Samias couldn't tell if he was joking or not. He decided, knowing what he did about the other boy, that it was the latter. "But, for reasons I can't fathom, Master Julion has chosen to take you under his wing for now, and I'm not disobeying his wishes any time soon."

The smaller male then titled his head towards the wall of the carriage, a clear a sign as any that he was finished with this conversation. Samias could perceive clearly that Val wasn't satisfied by the response, but was accustomed to Aurelius's mannerisms enough by now to know that was all they were eking out of him – at least for now.

 _Well, at least he has been more verbose with us now than last night,_ Samias conceded, willing to accept the small victories as they came even as he had to force away the desire to chat to Aurelius, find out more about him as well as the primal instincts to move away and sit somewhere else.

He found that reaching an equilibrium between his want to socialise with Aurelius and his innate disgust at his unnatural presence was achieved by ignoring him, so instead turned to his friends.

Sam flashed a charming grin at the other two Chrome Fangs, before saying to them: "We made it. Or we're safe now, at least. Didn't I tell you could trust me, Mikey?" he ended with a teasing jab, reaching out to ruffle his friend's silvery hair.

"Don't say shit like that, Samias! What is it with you and tempting fate?" Valeria questioned with an exasperated shake of her head. Almost obscured by Mikey's grunts and yelps of annoyance and pain respectively, Sam almost didn't catch the boy next to him muttering under his breath, "There is no fate. There is only the Emperor's guiding hand."

He released the other ganger, leaning back in his seat to stare at Aurelius for a long moment. From his friends' unchanged demeanours he could deduced that they had missed the utterance. The Interrogator hadn't moved his gaze from where it was unflinchingly impaling the poor carriage's walls with its intensity.

Samias let the unusually (for the company he kept at any rate) pious statement slide. He'd never personally had much to thank the Emperor for, anyway.

The rumble of the train returned to the forefront, nearly drowning out a sleepy sigh from Michael as he slouched in his seat across from Aurelius – Sam knew he would have extended his legs out (and probably rested them on the seat's occupant had it been one of his friends) had the blonde not been there, but it was strikingly obvious that Mikey was intimidated by the Inquisitor's apprentice.

Val locked eyes with him and smiled as the silver haired boy yawned, his eyelids drooping shut and his head coming to rest on Valeria's shoulder, and though her eyes were filled with a deliberate hardness they belied fondness in great quantities.

"You tell him I let him do this when he wakes up and you're dead," she threatened, Samias holding up his hands in mock surrender as he grinned. Michael had possessed a significant crush on Val when the two first met, blatant to anyone that watched him interacting with her, and though it faded his best friend was unsure whether or not it was still smouldering.

Soon enough, however, the exhaustion of the flight and lack of sleep caught up to Valeria as well, although she put up much more of a fight and kept snapping open alert eyes before it claimed her completely.

Sam flicked brown orbs back to his neighbour, who still appeared very much awake. Well, at least until his blinks started to become lengthier, prompting Aurelius to sit up straight and focus his eyes ahead.

"Gonna rest your head on my shoulder?" he joked, instantly regretting the words when he felt the boy's icy sclera zoning in on him like a targeting reticule. The offer to let Aurelius sleep whilst he kept watch for any potential danger died before it reached his lips, and he tilted his head away in an effort to minimise the effects of the smaller youth's soulless eyes.

 _It was stupid, anyway. He's part on the Inquisition, he'll be used to this sort of relentless action. And he definitely doesn't trust us yet, you idiot._

Five minutes passed, and Samias remembered something he had been planning to say to the off-worlder but hadn't had a proper opportunity to for a while.

"Hey, Aurelius? I'm sorry for touching you earlier. I know that you told me not to," he began, forcing himself to meet the blonde's gaze when it quickly flashed in his direction and ignoring the swirls of wrongness in his stomach. Aurelius cocked his head to the side slightly, and it took a moment for Samias to realise that this was him showing confusion. He couldn't deny that it was nearly cute, innocent even, but everything the boy did was held back from a normal human standard by the unnatural focussing of reality around him.

"When I shoved you onto the ground, I mean," Samias mumbled, rubbing the back of his head and trying to suppress the sudden blushing of his cheeks.

It had been the first time Samias had witnessed true, positive emotion displayed in him. It was dark, and Aurelius's void aura had threatened to overcome him with terror, yet with their faces so close together it was impossible to miss how his blue eyes had shone with a mix of fear and gratitude. Samias was sure he wasn't imagining it, though it was hard to picture now with how emotionless and blank Aurelius's limited repertoire of expressions seemed to be.

"Oh. That."

Aurelius hadn't forgotten. How could he, when he had longed for touch for so many years, a desire he had tried to choke the life from yet a desire that had been delivered – albeit in such a jarring way? He just didn't think it was something that required an apology.

"You saved my life," he muttered after an awkward pause. He thought about injecting genuine appreciation into his voice, but felt clashing emotions brushing against the surface they were trapped beneath and quickly put a stop to those plans. Deliberately releasing one could break the lock he had on the rest, and he had no intention to let years of suppression spill out onto some ganger that he barely knew and probably thought he was a soulless freak. His words could show gratitude, even if his tone didn't.

"I should be the one thanking you, really. I am in your debt," he stated, hating how monotone his delivery was, hating how he was so incapable of expressing what he actually felt – or at least knew he should feel. He had been able to, a long time ago, before his unnatural gift had activated fully.

"Um, no. You're not. You got us out of that mess. We'd be goners if not for you," Samias exclaimed, holding his hands out before clenching them slowly as he spoke, voice drenched in insistent emotion.

Aurelius nodded. He saw no reason to challenge what was clearly the truth.

"So – we even, then?" Samias asked, almost reaching up to offer Aurelius a handshake and disguising it by resting it in his lap.

"Yeah. We're even," he responded quietly, before turning to activate his dataslate and refamiliarise himself with the starport's layout.


	4. Fangs of Chrome

Joy grinned at the devastation that he had wreaked tonight, a spring in his step as he twirled through the brutalised cadaver of the accommodation block. The heavy frag launcher resting on his shoulder distorted his centre of balance, exacerbating the light swirls of motion into something all the more exciting.

Black clad mercenaries meticulously yet hurriedly scoured the wreckage, hunting for any more corpses of their targets. The two that had already been found had been unceremoniously dumped together in front of the ruins, mangled and bloody. Joy had almost protested at them being moved from the precise locations they had died, disrupting the natural beauty of their contorted, shrapnel shredded forms, but was already treading on thin ice with the captain of the squadron he had been paid to support.

Joy contented himself for a short moment imagining what pretty patterns the limbs of those four who had narrowly avoided the reach of his missiles would make, before that thought soured. The captain – he hadn't bothered to learn her boring name, though had invented a few himself for her – had forbid him from pursuing, denying him the chance to share his gift with those who had escaped the first act unscathed and asserting that her troops would find them.

 _Soldiers these days. No appreciation for the destructive arts_. He shook his head, wondering how the captain's dull face would rearrange itself in contact with a krak missile, giggling to himself. Two mercenaries who had been stood near him shared a glance and unanimously decided to continue their search elsewhere in the destroyed building.

Joy scowled beneath his helmet. He would usually have worn his normal mask, a gleaming, cherubic visage etched with spiralling contusions of red and white, but the captain had forbidden that as well, mentioning some uninteresting rationale about the need for stealth until the attack was launched.

He had only worn the black, slitted-visor helm and the equally dark fatigues habitual of Officio Sabatorum terror agents because his brother had insisted, promising him that he wouldn't have to restrain himself soon.

He wasn't a _terror_ agent, and resented the official title. Terror was mundane; his works inspired wondrous destruction, visceral and exciting. True, his art could cause terror, but that was only for those who lacked imagination. But his brother was his guiding hand, a conductor of matchless skill that created his own beautiful tapestries of violence, and Joy would follow his orders if it made him happy. He would willingly play the actor in his brother's grand performance, even if it irked him to not deliver his unadulterated best on every occasion.

Joy wondered what his brother was doing. Probably setting the stage for their contractor, who never shared plans with Joy himself. He didn't mind – the plans didn't interest him, so would pay little heed to them should he be informed anyway.

"Agent Two," the captain's clipped, professional voice interrupted his reverie. She had ignored his insistence that he be called Joy once again, although supposed that the woman obviously lacked the capabilities for the emotion. He considered killing her, unleashing a barrage of annihilation upon these mercenaries, but knew it would disappoint his brother greatly.

"Yes? What is it you require, my lady?" he responded by twirling round and bowing in her direction, knowing she would be scowling beneath her own helm.

"We move now. There's no more of the Inquisitor's retinue here. Your orders are to remain with us until we return to base and proceed to stage two. Do you understand?"

Joy nodded vigorously, fighting the urge to respond with something sarcastic or demeaning at the captain's insulting tone. _How dare she address me as though I am a churlish child._ Despite the slight, Joy resolved to keep calm, knowing how it annoyed his brother when he caused trouble. The mercenaries had the same employers as the siblings did, so anything he did here would result in great stress for his brother.

He followed behind the captain as she issued orders to her underlings, towering over her by several inches. He tapped a rhythm with his feet as he walked, though his joviality had been greatly diminished by the prospect of more time with her stifling leash.

Oh how he longed for the days to come where he could perform at his brother's side once more. It had been far too long since the two collaborated to a great extent.

.*.*.*.

Samias waited somewhat awkwardly behind Aurelius as the smaller boy quickly input a series of numbers onto a security pad for the door blocking their progression, slender fingers dancing over the keys.

The four stood underneath a thankfully sheltered entrance to one of the many temporary lodging blocks scattered along the eastern edge of the starport, the growling of surface-bound ship engines a constant reminder of where they were.

" _State your purpose here_ ," a tinny, metallic voice rang out from the access panel, the words distorted by the crackling of live interference. Aurelius leaned in and spoke softly, "You ask of my purpose, when all around you have turned from theirs? I am here to restore the light, through faith or by fire."

After a few seconds, the vaguely red colouration of the panel's screen became an equally as faded green, proceeding by a sharp clang of a locking mechanism disengaging. Aurelius tried to muffle a grunt as he shoved the metal door open, having to put his whole body weight behind it. Samias would have gladly helped, but wasn't sure it would have been appreciated so instead waited for the blonde to wrestle it unshut.

"What are you doing here, Aurelius?" a harsh, urgent voice rang out as they entered the wide entrance room. A woman, taller than Samias and about as muscular as Strask, stared down at them with golden, judging eyes. White hair framed a face that would have been fair and youthful had it not been adorned with a severe expression that Sam was thankful wasn't directed at him for long as it took him and his friends in. The tight fitting combat fatigues did nothing to conceal sculpted muscle, nor the poise of a seasoned warrior as she beheld them.

Apart from a scar below her lip and an elegant symbol that the eighteen year old didn't recognise tattooed on her pale left cheek her face was otherwise uninteresting in the context of the Inquisitorial group. Samias did not miss the ornate yet still very functional bolt pistol resting in her hands, a different style to the Inquisitor's, more fluted and curved edges with parchments covered in what looked to be High Gothic catechisms pinned to the sides.

"The hideout at District Loriath was compromised and destroyed. Idris was lost, and the rest are unaccounted for," Aurelius replied in an equally serious tone, his hard gaze unflinching when the woman scowled at him.

"And these are?" she made a sweeping motion with the arm not holding the gun encapsulating the three, glaring at them with unreserved hostility. Samias felt the need to stand in front of his friends, to shield them from her bellicosity, so moved closer to Aurelius's side, content to let the Interrogator do the talking to another of his not-so-merry band.

"Gangers from the underhive who aided us in our mission within District Elestra. The master wanted them to stay with us, so I thought it prudent to bring them to the rendezvous here," the boy muttered, voice bereft of emotion. The woman nodded, before turning to face the other three, her expression much more relaxed, "I see. If the Inquisitor can vouch for you then I have no reason to do otherwise. It is always good to have more allies. I am Battle Sister Florencia of the Adepta Sororitas, and I thank the Emperor's benevolence for bringing you here safely."

Aurelius made the sign of the Aquilla and bowed his head reverently for a short moment. It didn't escape Sam's notice that Florencia's eyes clouded over with a mix of annoyance and disgust as they flicked over to the boy.

The room – or more precisely, corridor – that they were presently in was daubed in muted grey, drab and far more functional than the first dwelling the gangers had been brought to. It led off to several shut metal doors, one of which they followed Florencia to as he beckoned them inwards.

It was a simple kitchen, a cooker not unlike that which the Chrome Fangs main hideout possessed covering one wall. More metal seats akin to those on the monorail carriage surrounded an equally unfurnished table covered with scattered dataslates and physical documents. Samias glanced at a slowly ticking chronometer resting on a stack of papers, not surprised to see that it had become the time that he would usually awaken.

"Where's Maratha?" Aurelius asked, not deigning to sit as the older woman beckoned the hivers to rest whilst pulling open a draw, instead standing in the threshold of the doorway. He rubbed his fingers on the metal frame, appearing as if he wanted to start tapping – a clear symptom of the boy being nervous.

"Performing her maintenance upon the _Melinoe_ ," the Sister responded, her tone as cold as the Interrogator's. Samias shuffled in his seat, eyes twitching between the two. "What was the identity of our enemies?"

"Unknown. They were black-clad, bereft of signs of allegiance. They had access to medium tier ordnance and had clear training and experience, though were not elite," Aurelius explained, sliding the dataslate he had looted from the one Samias had taken out onto the table, "We obtained this, but it is just a map of District Loriath and the surrounding area."

"Indicating that they were not locally based?" Florencia mused, before seating herself opposite the inseparable trio and handing placing three nutriblock bars out in front of them. "Here. I doubt you had the opportunity for much sustenance on the run."

"What about Aurelius?" Samias questioned before the context of the words had even manifested in his mind. Florencia flashed him what was clearly supposed to be a wry smile, though the effect was diminished in its failure to reach her blazing eyes, "I'm sure the Interrogator will eat when he has the inclination."

It took Sam a moment to realise Aurelius had already left, even if the sudden retreat of heavy clarity infusing his mind should have informed him of that, and tried not to be disappointed. Nothing the boy had done so far was in dissonance with such an action. He turned back to Val waggling her eyebrows suggestively at him and smiling herself, a faint blush reddening his cheeks as he yanked the nutriblock towards him.

"What now?" Michael asked in-between bites, his mood seeming to have perked up now they were back in relative safety. Samias was glad his friend had the foresight not to fill the question with a customary profanity.

"We shall wait until either the Inquisitor and the others return or give signs of their continued activity," Florencia declared, her voice filled with an unflinching conviction that, despite what she had been told, Julion would survive. It took Samias aback, not anticipating the sudden devotion in the woman's tone in what was otherwise a normal conversation.

But then, nothing about these Inquisitorial types was normal in any sense of the word.

.*.*.*.

" _Question: What has the Emperor ever done for me?_

 _Answer: What have you ever done for the Emperor?"_

 _\- Training questions, Administration Cant and Dogma._

It was late afternoon when a metallic voice screeched " _passcode entered and access attempted_."right into Aurelius's ear, making him jump back in surprise and drop the dataslate he was reading.

Thankful that he was the only one in the kitchen so no one else had witnessed the lapse, he quickly stepped to the entrance to the small hostelblock, clearing his voice with a small cough before pressing the voice activation on the inside panel.

"State your purpose here," he recited, recounting the following response in his head even as the words were spoken, " _You ask of my purpose, when all around you have turned from theirs? I am here to restore the light, through faith or by fire._ "

 _Strask!_ The thought came unbidden, more relief filled than he would like to admit. The man's sardonic tone as he delivered the passwords carried through the distortion of the communicator even if it sounded nothing like him.

The passage was from one of Inquisitor Julion's favourite books, _The Righteous Cleansing of Subsector Avalon,_ by Lord Inquisitor Tarvecktus – which he had leant to Aurelius after his initiation as Interrogator a year or so ago.

Tarvecktus undeniably had a flair for the bombastic, preferring the more overt approach of bring fire and death to those who had turned from the Emperor's light – her methods could not have been further from Julion's own strategies of rooting out and excising the deepest corruptions, yet his master persisted that the password (detailing Tarvecktus's march into the palace of the renegade governor) exemplified what the Ordo Hereticus stood for.

He released the lock, unsurprised when he was met by the tall form of Strask smirking down at him. The man made no secret that he had hated the "pretentious" passcode, a sentiment that none of the others would be unreprimanded in expressing. But Strask had apparently been at the Inquisitor's side since he was an Interrogator, far longer than the rest of them, so Julion had probably given up in trying to curb his unruly nature.

Strask was drenched, and in spite of his casual mien the seventeen year old could tell that he was exhausted from the dark circles underneath his eyes.

"You made it," Aurelius greeted him with a measured voice, hiding the flood of relief that had been released inside of him. Strask was almost like a mentor to him in ways that the Inquisitor simply wasn't, even if Aurelius often resented the man throwing himself into such a role with abandon whenever the opportunity arose – because he knew that Strask could never truly get close to him. Losing him would have meant a loss of another of the original retinue he had spent seven years with, and besides Strask being here meant that Julion was also.

His loss would have been even more devastating. Despite the fact that he liked to fastidiously cogitate every possibility in the hopes of preparing for them should they arise, he hadn't wanted to consider the elimination of his master. It had implied both a loss of purpose and responsibilities that he knew he wasn't ready for in continuing the mission.

"Is that all I get? "You made it"?" Strask jabbed, the overcompensated mirth in the words not fully concealing the disappointment present in them. Aurelius felt a pang of something he couldn't identify, but easily pushed it aside. There wasn't time to waste on emotions.

"Keep moving, Strask," the unmistakable voice of Julion demanded, the former guardsman rolling his eyes but nonetheless striding to the side of Aurelius with a muted, "Yes sir."

"Aurelius. I am glad to see you are still active," the Inquisitor stated, words not quite filled with the sentiment he professed. The blonde nodded respectfully in lieu of a verbal reply as his master walked further into the corridor, leaving room for Udanya (who greeted her fellow Interrogator with a sombre wave) to enter, coming to a halt directly opposite his younger apprentice.

"The gangers?" he inquired, his intense grey eyes meeting Aurelius's own and boring into them as if he could pull the answers from the boy's head through gaze alone. After the true awakening of his Pariah gene and the subsequent alteration to both his metaphysical and earthly biology, his own gaze had become both blank and piercing. His eyes subjected those who replied with their own to a modicum more of his inner nothingness, making it incredibly uncomfortable for others to match them. Yet the Inquisitor had always done it without flinching, one of the very few who could.

Samias, Valeria and Michael had retired to the living room, earning a well deserved rest that Aurelius himself declined in order to scour the dataslate he had captured for any hidden clues as to the nature of their foes.

"They accompanied me in the retreat to this rendezvous point."

"Idris?"

Aurelius soberly reached into the pocket of the somewhat sodden jacket he hadn't changed out of yet, retrieving the augmetic eyes of the fallen savant and offering them to the Inquisitor. Julion nodded, expression severe but unchanged, whilst Strask grimaced with sympathy and Udanya shook her head sadly, eyes glistening.

Julion took the cybernetics silently. Had he been younger, Aurelius would have received praise for remembering the correct protocol even in the face of this loss, but now that he had been elevated from what was essential a psychic nullifier with the downside of human facilities to an Interrogator such was expected.

"These losses will be remembered. The deaths of Emilia and Idris will not be in vain. I will not allow it," the Inquisitor promised, before abruptly turning and marching towards the main social quarters of the building. That was all to be said for the dead. Julion had lost much more in the past, and would lose more in the future. It wasn't the Inquisitor's role to become paralysed in mourning for the sacrifices made in service to the God Emperor.

Strask placed a gentle hand on Udanya's stiff shoulder, giving her an unusually gentle smile before following in the footsteps of his master. Aurelius fell into step with her beside him, brushing his eyes along her for a short moment. Having little experience himself, he wasn't skilful at ascertaining emotions, but from the way her lips were drawn in a tight grimace and her eyes sparkled with unshed tears it was obvious the elder Interrogator was having trouble completely suppressing her own grief.

Udanya had transferred alongside Idris from the gargantuan retinue of Lord Inquisitor Voxin to help rebuild Julion's own after Medlia's Sepulchre. She had known him much more than any of the others, and had often been found discussing all manner of intellectual pursuits whether or not they pertained to the mission at hand.

Aurelius wanted to say something, _anything_ , if not to make a futile attempt at soothing her misery but to at least show he did care, but couldn't find the words. He remembered well how anguish and loneliness had crushed him after the Sepulchre after the closest thing he had to a family was torn to shreds – he still suffered under their weight now.

Nothing what little anyone did had alleviated the sorrow which had squeezed any semblance of positive feeling from him – only his own persistence and ability to cast aside his emotions and pretend he didn't have any as well as faith in the Emperor's role for people like him had allowed him to continue to function.

If he could convince everyone else that he felt nothing, then surely it would become true eventually?

He had barely got to know Udanya – or Idris and Emilia, for that matter – too consumed by his own isolation and not wanting to endure the barely concealed looks of disgust and revulsion held by the new arrivals. But that didn't mean he was blind to her suffering, nor wanted her to be subsumed by it.

He didn't let his eyes linger long, aware that she would undoubtedly perceive it and most likely react negatively.

Strask pushed the door to the main communal area of this very functional residence open, the sound of a near-delighted "Strask! You're alive!" from what sounded like Samias reaching the Interrogator's ears as they stepped inside.

"See, Aurelius? That's more like it," the tall man teased. Aurelius pretended he hadn't heard the comment as the four entered. The gangers and Florencia stood in respect, the latter bowing deeply towards Julion as he crossed the threshold.

Maratha nodded her head respectfully and wave one of her mechadendrites with a whirr of gears. Out of all of the Inquisitor's retinue, she perhaps had the most outwardly startling appearance, though remained one of the least augmented Mechanicum agent Aurelius had seen. Two detachable tendrils and a custom augmetic hand that could be replaced with a more standard prosthetic allowed Maratha to appear like an unaugmented human should the need arise – as it often did in the duty of the Ordo Hereticus.

Her intelligent, analytical green eyes didn't bely the fact that parts of her brain had been replaced by cybernetics in order to enhance her logical and critical functions. Past the sanctioned modifications made in her time as a tech acolyte long before Aurelius had been instated into Julion's retinue, Maratha had improved the augmetic regions of her brain in order to better analyse human conditions – facial expressions, perspiration and posture, all paramount in determining if an individual had something to hide. This allowed her to hold the role of maintaining the team's equipment whilst still aiding in investigations more directly.

Her partially mechanical nature meant that she could endure Aurelius's Null presence more than any of the others, and as a result he had spent significantly longer interacting with her than any of the original retinue he had been inducted into. When she had time for him, at any rate.

There weren't enough seats for all of them, even as Florencia vacated hers for one of the weary new arrivals. Strask and Udanya sat, the latter staring into the stone grey floor for a few seconds before her eyes became more determined.

Samias himself made to stand, but the Inquisitor bade him to continue sitting with a wave of his hand. If exhaustion was obvious in Udanya and was visible in Strask if one knew where to look, Julion seemed unaffected by the night's events, the man's endurance and iron devotion to his cause almost superhuman.

"As you have probably all deduced, the attack last night has impeded our plans for today," the Inquisitor began in lieu of a greeting, Aurelius feeling unnecessary at his side and hating the way that the others' gazes, fixated upon Julion, were forced to rake over him in order to get there. "Thus we must act with even more haste than before. The Enslaver threat must be identified and eradicated, even if it comes at the cost of our own investigation here."

Julion stepped slightly to the left, exposing Aurelius more, an action the boy had thankfully been expecting – he had not forgotten the directions given to him by his master the previous night, even if that seemed so long ago now.

"Aurelius, I am instating you as the primary leader of this operation," the Inquisitor declared with a steely voice. The blonde clenched his fist, trying to put on a determined expression as he gazed across the room. He had anticipated this, despite hating the implications of it. This would be his first true test as an Interrogator, his first chance to show that he had truly been learning under Julion's guidance and could direct a team of vastly different individuals to victory.

The boy didn't rate his leadership skills very highly – how could he command those who only felt an instinctive distrust and wrongness whenever they saw him? – but he had the Inquisitor's authority behind him now. Besides, the pressure was lessened (though only to an extremely minimal extent) knowing that Julion would step in and remove him from control should things began to drastically break down – but in turn that would lead to very personal consequences.

He and the Inquisitor had spent a few hours discussing stratagems yesterday evening, so Aurelius was confident that the plan he would suggest already had his master's approval. Doubtless, he would still prefer to stick to the shadows and prosecute Julion's own orders instead of be the conductor himself, but his role was vastly different from that only a year or so ago.

"Our objective is to penetrate the Red Eye stronghold of unofficially chartered District CXXXVII and find the source of the Enslavers infesting their ranks," he spoke in a clipped, professional tone, as quickly as he could without merging the words despite knowing that the spotlight would remain on him for much longer than this explanation.

He wanted to pace, which Julion himself often did, but remained rooted to the spot instead. He could feel the anxiety pooling in his gut, the juxtaposition of being someone others actively avoided now in charge of a very tenuous operation, but refused to let him undermine his own newly granted authority.

"And for that, we need you three – Michael, Valeria and Samias," the names felt heavy on his tongue. The three gangers meant a fraction more to him now then they did last night, but were still essentially complete strangers.

They all looked at him in alternate ways, all tainted by what he always saw in others' eyes and yet each with their own unique flavour twisting that. Michael feared him the most, feared his lack of a soul even if he didn't quite understand it. Valeria was the most suspicious, but then that seemed to be a part of her nature, always searching for flaws and discrepancies, anything that could endanger her friends.

And Samias … Aurelius didn't quite know what to think of the taller boy. If he wanted to, he could stare into those trusting, ocean green eyes and rip more of what Samias saw of him out. He had, admittedly, made more of an effort to try and converse with the Pariah, and had saved his life, but Aurelius couldn't discern if that was because he lacked mental strength or was genuinely interested in him.

 _It won't last long. It never does._

Samias seemed to almost wish to peel back the haughty, superior yet emotionless and unfeeling persona Aurelius shrouded himself with. But if he did that then he would be repulsed by the ashen void underneath. It wasn't a concern he needed to waste thought on now at any rate.

"What do you want us to do?" Valeria asked, shifting in her seat and levelling the full brunt of her gaze at the blonde. _She must surely realise she doesn't have a choice in the matter whether or not she agrees?_ Though the gangers could be forced, it would greatly reduce the efficiency of the mission and incur a great risk of compromising it from the outset. Their continued, willing cooperation was paramount.

"I need you to take us to the Chrome Fangs headquarters. We have a deal that we would like to make with your leader in order to secure their aid against the Red Eyes forces."

The hivers shared looks, a common reaction for them whenever new information was delivered unto them. They had probably decided early on (whether by discussing it or just falling naturally into it) that it would be good practice to present a unified front to the much larger Inquisitorial retinue.

"What sort of deal are you gonna make with the Chief?" Michael was the one to reply, which Aurelius tried not to be irritated by. He was only here because of the other two, who had already displayed talent beyond that of an ordinary Imperial citizen, and seemed only to ask redundant questions.

He dismissed a sarcastic response brewing in his mind. This was the time where another would usually step in to fill the empty silence, either the Inquisitor with the voice of further elucidation or Strask with a more diplomatic tone, but it was left to Aurelius.

"We require your gang's help against the Red Eyes. From the few layout plans we have discovered, there's no possible way we could infiltrate their main base with the full volume of gangers there," he began, focussing his eyes at a point between that of the three Chrome Fangs as not to needlessly discomfort them, even if it would appear strange. "That's where you come in. You are needed to draw out the Red Eyes forces while we intrude and search for Enslaver presence. Once we have located and destroyed it, the Inquisitor will call for the Adeptus Arbites to attack and deal with the gang disturbance and to destroy the Red Eyes completely. In exchange for your help, we will also have the Arbites wipe you from all Administratum records and, if possible and desired, relocate you further up into the hive."

"You can do all that?" Samias questioned with a mixture of awe and disbelief, eyes darting between the Interrogator (who took a silent breath of relief that the information deposit hadn't somehow gone wrong) and his master, who interjected, "The Inquisitorial remit is an extraordinary powerful tool, Samias. I've told you already that I have the authority to wipe all life from every world in this system. Changing records and eliminating a gang – no matter how powerful and deep rooted into the hierarchy of Hive Enchellus it is – is not much trouble compared to that."

Julion notably declined to mention that with how influential the Red Eye seemed to be it was expected that they would rise up again after the Inquisition had left.

"Won't pulling all that weight ruin your current investigation?" and back to Valeria they were.

"I'm afraid that is the case, yes. But sacrifices must be made in order to save this world," Julion's voice was like tempered steel, unbreakable, unstoppable and filled with conviction. Had he not been one of the most important men in the Imperium already, Aurelius believed that his master would have made an exceptional motivational speaker – and was glad that he had intervened to give the strategy some of that inspirational weight.

"I'm not sure the Chief will like this," Samias murmured in a quiet voice that would have gone unheard by all but his friends had not everyone else in the room undergone heavy combat training and sensory honing.

 _I'm afraid he won't have much of a choice._

"You'll have to convince him yourself. For the record I think it's a good plan," he said in a much louder tone, clasping his hands together in anticipation. Valeria and Michael seemed a great degree more worried about the prospects. It didn't even register that Samias was intending the words as encouragement for Aurelius itself until the conversation had already moved past it – it must have seemed as if he had elected not to thank the other boy.

"We need to move as soon as possible. It is wholly possible our assailants from last night have been tracking us," Julion spoke. That was another factor they did not need in the mix – a faction from the upper hive interfering with their eradication of the Enslavers. If they acted swiftly, hopefully they wouldn't have chance to get in the way, whether or not they themselves were associated with the Red Eye gang.

.*.*.*.

Wary eyes tracked their every movement as, led by Samias, Valeria and Michael, they walked into a more well kept region of the sprawling undercity. Suddenly, as if a random threshold had been crossed, the dilapidated squalor of crumbling, outdated buildings stacked on top of each other progressed into an equally dirty and poverty filled region that nonetheless had far more organisational structure.

Despite the fact that they had only entered the cusp of the vast underhive, the acrid stench of pollution and dumped chemicals clogged Aurelius's nostrils and made his eyes occasionally water empathetically. It was dark, the shadows cast by thousands of buildings and infrastructure almost directly above this place blotting out the usual late evening grey. Water dripped down from cracks in the ceiling of the subterranean region they were now in, but for the most part the relentless rainfall didn't penetrate this far down.

They were surrounded by half-destroyed hab blocks converted into sentry towers, some painted with the silvery sigil of their owners whilst others had a very real representation of the Chrome Fang crudely stapled on.

Aurelius, despite his relative inexperience with field combat compared to other members of the squadron, could feel the guns trained on him and his comrades as they advanced into what appeared at first glance to be an unused metal smelting factory. The sixth sense proved to be unnecessary, as many of what he presumed to be gangers guarding the area had levelled an assortment of very real weapons at the group.

The journey had been tense to say the least, the group fraught with fraying nerves and the air laden with anticipation, the feeling of being watched by everyone in the undercity not helping to calm matters. This was the first proactive, direct action that the Inquisitorial retinue would be taking, albeit not directly related to their original research of the corruption rife within the upper hive.

It was clear that the only reason for them not having been mowed down or confronted by trespassing this far into gang owned territory were the three gang members at the forefront of the group.

Aurelius had considered the possibility that the three had agreed to this only for a safe escort back to their home and would betray them once they had reunited with their unscrupulous compatriots, but had dismissed the scenario as unnecessary conjecture. Nothing they had done so far hinted at an ulterior motive, and with them having seen the Enslaver Aurelius hoped they would believe the very real threat to Karvonis IV. He had to give credit where credit was due; none of the three seemed selfish enough to ignore the growing threat in favour of saving their own skin. Even Michael.

Besides, even with the might of an entire gang arrayed against them the Interrogator was confident they had at least a chance to prevail – Florencia had donned her black power armour and cut an imposing figure in their ranks, catechisms of devotion to the God Emperor fluttering from her sheathed chainsword. She had covered it with a brown shawl whilst traversing the hive to this point, but it had been agreed that in order to make an impression she would expose herself to the gangers they were to meet.

He quickened his pace slightly, overtaking Udanya and placing himself just behind the hivers. Though he and the Inquisitor had agreed that the latter, with more authority and practice, would do the majority of the talking to the "Chief" as obtaining the gang's aid was paramount, he was still in charge of this operation and would still have to be involved in the negotiations.

"Welcome to the home of the Chrome Fangs," Samias announced as Aurelius fell into step behind him, the pride in his voice a reason for the blonde to smirk if he had been so inclined. "It probably doesn't seem like much to you."

 _You're right there._ Although the manned guard towers and the party gathering in front of the main gate to the abandoned factory gave off the illusion of strength and large numbers, Aurelius could tell that the Fangs were mustering most of their members to greet these new arrivals.

It was a textbook example of a display of might designed to intimidate. The Inquisition itself had no need of such posturing, not when the mere words of its agents could end entire cities. The Chrome Fangs were not a large gang by any stretch, unknown in the hive above, but still boasted around fifty relatively well equipped members.

Aurelius made a humming noise, mostly to signal that he was listening to the taller boy. Acting in his usual manner and ignoring irrelevant conversation so that nobody could even think about getting close enough to be repulsed was unsuitable in the context of the task at hand.

"We're pretty much all family," Samias told him, patting Michael on the shoulder as if to signal his point, "So uh, ignore what it looks like right now. Once we tell them you fought the Red Eyes in Elestra and saved us afterwards the others won't mind you being here."

"They'll be happy to see us," Valeria muttered, to which Samias grinned and jabbed, "Maybe not you, Val."

"Excuse me?" she clutched her chest in mock offence, before punching the other adolescent on the shoulder as Michael commented: "Wow, Samias. That was pretty uncalled for."

Aurelius strengthened the suppression factor of his Animus to its maximum value, stifling a minute shudder of discomfort and pain as the constant buzzing in his head became louder, and he felt even tighter in his skin. He would just have to deal with it – as he had many, many times before – as otherwise even being in the same room as the Chief would influence their choler into something resembling disgust and edge them towards rejecting the proposal.

It wouldn't hurt to reduce the strain on those who already knew of his aura, even if it did somewhat increase that on himself.

"You okay?" a note of concern had made its way into Samias's voice, discernible even through his head's insistent throbbing. He wondered if the taller teen had made the connection between his adjustment of the mechanism built into the Aquilla pendant housing the black crystal in his collar and the intensity of the Null force.

"I'm fine," he replied curtly, concentrating in removing whatever reaction he had exhibited from the increased burden of trapping the void beneath the skin – if it was so apparent someone who had barely spent any time with him could perceive it. Aurelius refused to tolerate weakness, whether that be the weakness of his condition or that of his relatively frail form. He ran a thin hand through his blonde hair, thankfully not that wet with the hood of his black jacket doing its job, and tried not to let it distract him.

Samias appeared almost thrilled that he had stooped to respond, green eyes lit up and his open, welcoming features tracing a smile. The boy was an enigma, most others who approached Aurelius in spite of the pervasive wrongness blanketing the air around him would be repelled by the intentionally disdainful and apathetic manner in which he had acted – which Samias had been subjected to in full force.

Yet Samias still tried to interact with him, to treat him like an ordinary acquaintance that he would prefer to get to know better. Aurelius was aware from experience that it was impossible to acclimatise to his presence in such a short span of time (and those who had known him for years could only endure it for minutes more), so it couldn't have become any easier for the ganger.

"See her over there with the silver Mohawk?" the bulkier male pointed, stretching out a muscular arm quite close to Aurelius in order to point at a woman at the front of those preparing to intercept them before the entrance. Attired in flak armour customised with scrap and with all standard Imperial insignia painted over with chrome teeth, she carried the combat shotgun with comfortable ease. He stepped to the right slightly, putting more distance between him and Samias whilst nodding.

"That's Seleste. Mikey's older cousin. Bit more intimidating than him though, right?"

"Hey!" the indignant response came swiftly. Aurelius hadn't failed to notice that with Samias talking to him neither Michael nor Valeria had made any effort to interact with him, a blatant signal if any were needed that it hadn't suddenly become easier.

"Next to her, with the Chrome Fang tattooed on his eye – that's Dragas. I wouldn't get on his bad side, if I was you," Samias continued. Aurelius viewed a tall, bare-chested man with numerous gang insignia drawn onto skin pulled taut over sinewy muscle, who wielded a small pistol in one hand and brandished a long knife with the other.

 _I wonder what criminal activity the Chrome Fangs are most renowned for,_ Aurelius mused. He had to balance his instinctive contempt for the new gangers at the hideout with the knowledge that in a hive as tainted by greed and ambition as this one there would be many pushed to the lower rungs of society that would have to turn to crime to survive.

Besides, anyone from any walk of life could potentially be of use to the Inquisition – he was reasonably certain that Mattias, the Interrogator he had replaced, had come from a much worse organisation than this one seemed to be, but had never asked him, and wouldn't ever have the chance.

As they approached, Samias fell silent, probably due to Aurelius's non-committal way of handling the conversation. The woman he had identified as Seleste cast a wary eye over the new arrivals, her grip tight on the combat shotgun in her hands, before stepping forwards with undeniable relief in her eyes.

"Where the fuck have you three been?" she chastised, her acidic tone not masking her happiness as she reached out a hand to clasp Michael's outstretched own. The other Fangs who had been stood with her fanned out, forming a semi-circle perimeter surrounding the Inquisitor's group.

"We'll fill you in soon," Valeria promised, her face remaining serious and composed whilst both Samias and Michael broke out in grins.

"I'm glad you're alright. We were gonna send out a search party for you, but when we heard the Red Eyes had invaded Elestra we thought you were gonners," Seleste spoke, releasing her cousin and slapping her hand against Samias's.

"So who are your new friends?" the young woman asked in an almost casual tone at odds with her tense posture, as if she had only just noticed the six Inquisitorial operatives trailing her fellow gang members.

"I am Inquisitor Julion Dominus of the Ordo Hereticus," the man stated, the words less of a grandiose pronouncement than a declaration of fact, and brandished the stylised I sigil, "And I have a proposal to make to your leader."

"Well shit," someone that Samias hadn't named blurted out, whilst another muttered "Why am I not surprised those three managed this?"

"The Chief is a very busy man," Seleste replied, refusing to be intimidated by the obvious display of authority before turning to the younger gangers, "So, you guys – we trust this Inquisitor?"

Most Imperial citizens would quake at the sight of an Inquisitorial sigil, let alone one belonging to a member of the Ordo Hereticus, the executioners of those who turn from the Emperor's light. As expected, the gangers were relatively unfazed, although some clearly understood the gravity of Julion's presence by the way their faces became pale.

"Yeah, you do. They saved us from the Red Eyes, and are gonna help us get rid of them for good," Samias responded, conviction lining his youthful tones. Seleste regarded him strangely for a moment, a mix of pity and trust that Aurelius couldn't interpret.

"Why do you want rid of the Red Eyes so badly? We hate the fuckers as much as any other gang, but you authoritarian types usually don't give a shit about what goes on down here," Seleste cut back to Julion, eying the Inquisitor in a threateningly protective manner. Julion was, of course, unaffected. Aurelius knew he wouldn't normally dispense information concerning the nature of their objective to lieutenants and the rank-and-file, but special exceptions could be make for a gang where the usual hierarchy broke down.

"The Red Eye gang has affiliated itself with a warp-breed of xenos known as Enslavers," Julion explained with a level tone. It always amazed Aurelius how he could seamlessly switch between multiple approaches for different individuals and impress his authority upon them regardless. "We need to find out how, and then we need to ensure their destruction before they threaten this entire hive."

"We saw an Enslaver with the Red Eyes in Elestra. It was freaky," Michael added, "Luckily Au- we could kill it before it got to use its psychic weirdness on us."

From the way his eyes had flashed to the Interrogator it was clear Michael was about to reveal Aurelius's dubious gift but had suddenly decided against it. The blonde gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod, hoping it conveyed his gratitude at the boy's foresight. The Chrome Fangs did _not_ need to know of his abilities.

"You'd better see the Chief then. Same with you three," Seleste conceded, stashing her shotgun in its holster and spinning round. Aurelius knew she would have caved to the request with or without the explanation, but had made an attempt to regain some control of the proceedings. Even a ganger wouldn't turn down a request from an Inquisitor.

"Just you, though," she added as she began to walk into the repurposed factory, "The rest of your crew can wait here."

"Interrogator Aurelius will be present as well," was the response as the Inquisitor fell into step behind her. Seleste, clearly sensing she didn't have a choice in the matter, just nodded with a mutter of: "Sure, whatever."

The three gangers who had inadvertently associated with the Inquisition trailed behind Seleste as she signalled to other Chrome Fangs to open the main entrance gateway, rusted gears and hydraulics that had long since lost automatic capabilities screeching in protest as the two muscular underhivers wrenched it open.

Following in Michael's cousin's footsteps as she cut a swift path into the cavernous hall of the factorium, the younger Chrome Fangs were immediately bombarded with greetings and short declarations of relief from their compatriots as they entered. None spent too long harassing any of the three with overtly emotional displays, but the familial bond between the gangers was obvious – as was the very noticeable lack of parental figures for any of Michael, Valeria or Samias.

The room would have once held endless rows of machines operated by more rows of unlucky workers consigned to a life of menial labour in the service of the Emperor, but all that remained were some hollow, rusted carcasses of contraptions fallen into disuse – the rest probably picked clean for scrap many years ago.

It seemed to have been converted into a communal hub of sorts for the Chrome Fangs, with numerous irregular chairs scattered around an equally diverse variety of tables. Aurelius pondered how many of the gang lived in the main hideout itself and how many would return to whatever they called home in this wretched underhive once their dubious duties were completed. He could ask Samias, of course – the boy would be veritably glowing if he showed interest – but derailing the conversation into meaningless discussion would be unwise.

The area was mostly empty, as he had anticipated with most of the gang mustered outside, a few youths a similar age to Aurelius smoking some kind of narcotic the blonde couldn't identify waving lazily in their direction.

She led them up uneven stairs to a second floor, this one separated into several different rooms through the construction of thin, scrap-filled walls which had clearly not originally been present in the factorium layout. Yellow phosphorescents illuminated their progress from above with a light intensity bordering on dim, occasionally flickering. The air inside the building wasn't quite as saturated with the stench of pollution as the outside of the underhive, but a musky smell still permeated.

"That's my room right there," Samias suddenly broke the silence, motioning with his thumb to a door on the right, clearly addressing Aurelius as if to continue their earlier "conversation". Sure enough, a slab of chrome metal with the words "Samias's room" scrawled out in childish handwriting across it was pinned to the wooden entry. "I'd show you it if we weren't in the middle of something."

"Ha! I'm sure you would," Michael ribbed, poking his friend in the back as the taller muttered, "Fuck right off, Mikey."

The young Interrogator didn't know what was meant by the offhand remark, so chose to ignore both it and Samias's attempt at broaching a talk.

They reached the end of the artificial hallway, a slightly more impressive entryway with a huge Chrome Fang embedded dead in the centre blocking their progress. Seleste rapped once on the door before pushing it open, revealing a dark interior housing a single occupant.

The Chief gazed up from what was definitely the nicest table Aurelius had seen from the gang, the smile creasing his aged features at the sight of Samias, Valeria and Michael quickly morphing into a frown at the two unknowns who entered with them.

Aurelius wasn't sure what he had been expecting from a warlord of a petty gang, especially one who seemed to be treated with relative respect by those he commanded, so in that respect he didn't have an image in his mind to compare what his eyes showed him to.

Around half of the Chief's face had been replaced by crude augmetics, as had his left hand which clenched and unclenched almost with a will of its own, the chrome reflecting the weak light with a golden glow as it warped into a failed imitation of human emotion.

The human side of the man's face, as well as both of his natural eyes, were old, evidence of a hard life imprinted in his murky blue orbs and the wrinkles and scarring covering the biological parts of his head. The man wore a white beard flecked with grey with as much dignity a gang leader could muster, and rose from his chair at the entrance of the new arrivals.

"I see we have guests," he spoke with a gruff, grim voice, gazing over Julion and his apprentice as one would feckless youths disturbing their peace. The irony of that was, despite the way the Chief wore the burden of his years plainly and the Inquisitor had the appearance of middle age, the latter was probably older than the head of the Fangs. Near-unlimited access to rejuvenat treatments kept Julion in an almost timeless state, the hindrances of aging not something an Inquisitor in their prime could afford.

Aurelius could be wrong, of course. He had never asked Julion's age, feeling that it would be deemed an unnecessary question, only knew that he hadn't noticed a change in the man's appearance in his seven years of service.

"I am Garulf, Chief of the Chrome Fangs. And you are …?" he asked, clutching the edge of his chair to stop his mechanical hand's spasms and project an air of authority. Aurelius wondered if his master ever got tired of introducing his role to those without easily accessible communication systems as Julion did just that.

"The Inquisitor has a deal to make with us. And his unit saved these three from the Red Eyes in Elestra," Seleste filled Garulf in quickly, her hand making its way onto Michael's shoulder and squeezing tightly. The man nodded, his expression becoming somewhat more welcoming as he continued, "I should thank you for that, then. These kids are the lifeblood of this gang. I don't know what we would do without them."

He gazed at Aurelius as he spoke for a short moment, his eyes gentle but verging on an unexpected hostility which the man hadn't been anticipating. Aurelius refrained from meeting or reacting to the look, aware that Garulf meant to compare his fondness for the youths returned to him with his relationship with Julion. It wasn't similar in the slightest – Aurelius was only here because he was useful, nothing more and nothing less.

"Let me hear out this proposal then," the Chief's gaze returned to the Inquisitor, who favoured him with one of sincere urgency back.

"I require your aid in a plan to eliminate the Red Eye gang. They, as your gang members will attest, have begun consorting with Enslavers, a vile species of xenos that, if allowed to retain a foothold into this world, would result in its destruction," Julion swiftly explained, "My team and I plan to infiltrate their headquarters, find the source of this infestation and destroy it alongside the gang's base of operations. But our numbers are few, and in order to prosecute this we-"

"Need a distraction, to draw them out so you can sneak in, correct?" Garulf interrupted. Aurelius, had he not been predisposed towards maintaining blankness of expression, would have baulked at the gall of the Chief for disrupting the Inquisitor's words, but they needed the Chrome Fangs too much for him to reprimand the disrespect.

"Precisely. And only another gang will be able to achieve that. I could call upon the Adeptus Arbites, but then the Red Eyes would simply remain within their stronghold and likely destroy any evidence of dealings with the warp-xenos."

"But they will respond to a gang trespassing into their territory," Garulf mused, tapping human fingers on his leg, "So, you get us to attack the Red Eyes so you can find this Enslaver source, and then what? The Chrome Fangs are wiped out by the retaliation?"

If Julion was frustrated with the Chief's interruptions in order to ask questions that would be subsequently explained had he just waited for him to finish, the man didn't let it bleed through his severe expression. "Once we have found what we are searching for, I will contact the underhive border Arbites and order them to deal with the unfolding violence, giving you Chrome Fangs ample time to retreat."

"This all sounds well and good for you, but what is in it for us? Even if the Arbites come as fast as they can, we are likely to take casualties. The Red Eyes are savage bastards, as I'm sure you've seen."

"As a reward for your aid, I will remove your entire gang from Administratum records and, if you wish, offer relocation to the mercantile districts in the upper hive with a fund of five million credits," the Inquisitor replied smoothly.

"And the Red Eyes will be gone," Samias added, barely suppressed vehemence seeping through his tone. Garulf met eyes with him, the boy's ocean green irises shining with fury and determination. Aurelius hadn't expected such support for their proposal from one of the gangers they had dragged into this in the first place, but supposed he should be grateful.

"Yes. Yes they would be," the Chief agreed, before fixing the Inquisitor with a glare, "If we can take this Inquisitor's word. How do we know that you are telling the truth about taking us out of the undercity?"

"You don't," Julion was blunt. There wasn't much else he could say – empty platitudes without hard evidence clearly wouldn't help matters.

"I see. So you'd have me risk the lives of my gangers for a promise you can't even prove?"

"I'd have you risk the lives of your gangers for the protection of this entire system, yes," Julion's own eyes burned with a cold wrath now, though it was not directed solely at the Chief. It would be reserved mostly for their enemies.

The venerable man sat down again with a sigh, gazing wearily at the Inquisitor before he had to avert his eyes towards his three younger gang members. As he was outside of the usual Imperial hierarchy by virtue of his wretched residence, the Chief couldn't simply be forced into servitude through the Inquisitorial icon alone, nor would he be convinced by loyalty to the Emperor, as such was clearly lacking in those raised in such iniquitous conditions.

Nonetheless, it seemed his master's current tactic was working – as Aurelius had expected it to. He had had every faith in Julion's ability to bend any not already consumed by heresy to his service, even if it required more unorthodox tactics like bribery.

"I have one more question," the aged man leaned forwards in his chair, "How will we know when you have completed your mission and the Arbites are to arrive?"

Julion turned to the Pariah, giving him a small nod. Aurelius reached into the inside pocket of his jacket before revealing four small earpieces, their black plastek almost indiscernible resting in the palm of his gloved hand.

"These vox beads will allow us to communicate discreetly whilst we are in the heart of the Red Eye stronghold," Julion explained as Aurelius passed the devices around, caring to avoid contact between his gloves and those accepting the beads. He gave one to Garulf, Seleste and – on a whim – Samias, keeping the last for himself.

"As Interrogator Aurelius is aiding in the direction of this operation, he will update you on our progress throughout the battle," the Inquisitor spoke as if Garulf had already agreed to his proposition.

"Uphold your end of the bargain and we have a deal," having stood once more to accept the vox bead, the Chief of the Chrome Fangs projected strength once again, somewhat counteracted by his moments of weakness as he muttered, "Though I suspect I don't have much choice in the matter."

"Your aid is appreciated, and your part in preventing the destruction of this world will be rewarded," Julion said, his austere tone making it difficult to ascertain any sincerity present in his words. "I would have us strike on the cusp of dusk's ending. Once an Enslaver infestation has begun, we must act with all haste to ensure its extermination."

Garulf nodded. "I will tell the gang. You and your men are welcome to join us in our evening meal."

"That won't be necessary," Julion cut in. One could interpret the declaration as springing from a place of sympathy, awareness that the gang would barely have enough food to feed its own members, but more likely the Inquisitor didn't want any distractions for his retinue, nor for them to get close to the gangers. "We will be moving before you do."

After spending more time finalising the strategy and finishing their own combat preparations, Julion's retinue waited with baited breath in the spare minutes before they would leave – cutting stark figures in the midst of the Chrome Fangs' hideout.

"Hey," a voice called out to Aurelius, stood aside from the others so that he could lessen the pressure of his Animus for a few moments before having to intensify it once more in their stealth. The youngster turned, vaguely unsurprised to see Samias walking towards him. The taller boy kept his distance, probably sensing the malevolent aura surrounding the Inquisitor.

The Null eyed Samias, favouring him with a glance but not quite a verbal response.

"This might be the last time we see each other, so, uh … I thought I'd say goodbye?" Samias scratched the back of his head awkwardly. This was the second time the ganger, usually so adept at projecting confidence, had dissolved into a puddle of gracelessness when he initiated a one to one conversation with Aurelius.

Aurelius wanted him gone. He couldn't fathom why Samias kept trying this, when he was so clearly uncomfortable around the Pariah. _This sort of effect is why others keep away_. With a soft sigh, he twisted the dark crystal at his throat, a frown almost making its way onto his young face.

"You could at least pretend to be interested, ya know?" Samias smiled, the words meant as a jest, though there was still annoyance in his eyes.

 _If I frustrate you this much, why are you still here?_

"Well … this is it, I guess," Samias let his arm flop down to his side in an almost defeated manner, something Aurelius couldn't interpret creasing his open features before it was replaced by a grin, "Good luck. Give the Red Eyes hell."

"The Emperor protects," was the Interrogator's emotionless reply.


	5. Seeing Red (Part 1)

Samias fingered the vox bead in his ear again for the umpteenth time. The line had been silent ever since Aurelius had announced they had reached the outskirts of main Red Eye territory. Most of the underhive was ostensibly owned by the bloated gang, their monopoly over those living in the undercity of Enchellus enforced with brutal but infrequent demonstrations of their rule.

The Chrome Fangs – or, more precisely, Dragas – knew of a passage through a derelict sewer that would avoid most of the Red Eye territories before reaching their main strongholds. This was the place where the Red EX was manufactured and where the gang had been formed, crawling with gang lackeys (as opposed to the lighter defence of the outer regions).

And that was where the Chrome Fangs were going.

The Inquisitor and his retinue had used the sewer around fifty Fangs were now progressing through around an hour ago. They needed to find a way to the main base of the leaders of the gang – apparently a ruined and repurposed governance facility of some sort – without being detected, whilst all the Chrome Fangs were required to do was make it there and cause a fuss.

Apparently Samias had been unintentionally lying when he had said that none of the Chrome Fangs knew where the main base of the Red Eyes was located. Unbeknownst to any but the Chief, Dragas had been performing stealth sorties on the Red Eye activities in their main base, monitoring relative numbers and seeing if he could gain any insight into their upcoming moves.

The heavily tattooed man led the way, gliding through the sewers like a bird skimming the polluted waters for mutated fish prey, his knife sheathed in lieu of the sniper rifle held in his hands. Dragas had begrudgingly taught Samias and his friends marksmanship after they had bothered him for days about it, so the boy owed much of his limited expertise past his own natural talent to the fellow Fang.

The mood was tense, but that didn't stop the small outbursts of a camaraderie driven banter floating quietly through the gangers. They hadn't ever done something of this scale before, not that Samias knew of at any rate, and it made them nervous. By all accounts, venturing into Red Eye territory as a member of a rival gang was tantamount to suicide to all those who didn't excel at stealth, to say nothing of entering with the intent to be discovered.

"I honestly can't believe we're just gonna walk right in there," Jamie, a man only a couple of years older than Samias himself (and still treated like a kid by the elder members of the Chrome Fangs) muttered from behind. He and Samias were firm friends now, but it hadn't started that way, and had been much more than that for a short time less than a year ago.

Sam shot a glance back to the older male, his handsome features framing eyes split between worry and excitement, before smiling at the gaze and carrying on, "I mean, it's fucking insane. _We're_ fucking insane."

"It's not too late to turn back now," he replied, a teasing lilt inserted into the words hopefully masking his own concern. Jamie, just slightly taller than Samias but skinnier, flicked the younger on the ear, making him growl under his breath at the playful attack. "Nah. Like I'd let you guys hog all the fun for yourself."

"We're doing this to get rid of the Red Eyes and their Enslaver problem, not for fun," Valeria cut in. Jamie rolled his hazel eyes, and though Samias agreed with Val's severe words he thought that perhaps she had been spending too much time alongside the Inquisition.

Michael stayed unusually silent, which in itself was a cause for concern, marching along with his autorifle clutched in white-knuckled fingers. Samias stepped slightly quicker over erode and uneven rock stained brown with the refuse the sewer would have been drenched in when it was still functional, coming to the side of the second of his best friends.

"Everything ok?" he asked quietly, before joking, "Not getting scared now, are you buddy?"

He grimaced when the smaller boy turned to him with a sad look – the teasing had been the wrong path to take.

"Yeah. Yeah I am scared," Michael whispered, ensuring no one other than Samias could hear his words. It was sure to be a sentiment shared by every one of the Chrome Fangs here (only a token force had been left behind at the hideout to protect it), yet it was still drenched in shame.

Samias didn't know what to say to the open admission of fear. He would have a plan of action if Mikey had been yelling the words in a panic, but the outwardly calm acceptance of that fact was somehow harder to deal with. He almost wished Michael was back at the hideout, not thrusting himself into danger with the rest of them in order to satisfy the Inquisitor's scheme, and wondered if his friend thought the same for him.

Before he could think of anything, Mikey forced a grin onto his face, before saying, "I'll be fine though. We all will, right?"

Samias nodded in response, forcing his own reassuring smile to form. This he could do – provide assurance when Michael asked for it, even if it was obvious his friend was lying. He didn't want to peel back that thin layer and expose the silver haired youth's terror again, because he did not possess the words to soothe that and didn't want to confront it. That meant confronting his own fear.

Samias drifted back into silence as the Chief, his real hand clutching one of the few laspistols the Chrome Fangs had access to, ordered them to split into two halves when they came to a branching intersection of the sewer. This had already been discussed, the move temporarily separating them to lower the risk of instant detection when they made their way to the surface. They would reconvene when the time came to fend off the inevitable retaliation of the Red Eyes.

He, as well as Mikey, Val and Jamie, followed Dragas and Seleste whilst the group led by Garulf took the northern path. Dragas, having scouted much of these underground tunnels, had identified two places where the Fangs would be able to exit into cover – instead of onto the open undercity streets.

They were needed as a distraction, but that didn't mean hurling themselves into death at the first opportunity.

Samias almost jumped out of his skin as the vox bead in his ear crackled with noise only he could hear.

" _Interrogator Aurelius here. We're outside of the stronghold now. Initiate the plan as soon as possible."_ The voice of the youngster was somewhat tinny but unmistakable. Samias locked eyes with Seleste as she turned to him, confirming she had heard the message also.

" _Garulf here. We are approaching the end of the sewers now. I'd say we get their attention in ten to fifteen minutes."_

" _Seleste here. Our situation is the same,_ " it was odd to hear his fellow Fang's voice both instantly and then much louder over the vox. Seleste gave him a look, prompting the boy to press down on his own bead before speaking, "Samias here. I can confirm."

It was good practice to announce one's identity over the line, and for each person to have received the initial message to reply in order to confirm that they were still connected and active, even if it did seem somewhat superfluous with Seleste only metres away.

" _Interrogator Aurelius here. All messages received. Tell me when you proceed with the plan."_

Samias thought it was cute that the blonde announced himself with his title over the vox, but quickly pushed the unneeded distractions from his mind. _He'll be fine. He knows what he's doing, and he's surrounded by people who definitely do. Besides, you shouldn't be caring about him past his communications anyway – he wouldn't want you to._

At the vanguard of the group, Dragas took a short right turn before speaking to Seleste and pointing at what were clearly rungs leading up to the surface. He began to ascend, with each subsequent Chrome Fang using the corroded ladder when the one before was almost to the top. There was no sudden explosion of anger or violence once the man disappeared from Sam's vision, indicating that wherever they were climbing into wasn't currently occupied by hostile forces.

It was a tedious process, going up essentially one at a time for a group of around twenty five, but there was no other way and the Fangs were all used to clambering over the rubble surrounding their own hideout.

As he rose, Samias tried to ignore how each rung was slick with sweat, the clamminess of his own hands shared by others. He willed his heart to calm, nothing had happened yet, but it refused and the boy was sure that thudding beat would be echoing all around the deserted sewer.

He emerged into a dark building, the space around him already filled with gangers that had scattered themselves into more combat appropriate positions. Samias followed their example, taking in his surroundings – from the way the ceiling was caved in at one end and the lack of usual Imperial iconography he could tell that this was one of the many structures in the underhive which had been crudely stapled onto the ruin of another.

The purpose of the sewer grate had been lost, but the thing itself kept. Whoever had made this place clearly hadn't wanted to deal with the trouble of removing it, and the entrance remained now even after this dwelling was lost.

Seleste pulled herself up last, not bothering to shut the grate behind her in case they needed to make a swift exit. Knowing her, she would have usually made some sort of short but rousing speech before they planned to initiate any type of raid or violence, but it wasn't worth the risk of alerting anyone nearby.

The plan they had come up with was simple – have the younger members of the gang distract any Red Eyes that happened to be on the ruined underhive streets and the others take them out during that. It would be impossible to stay undetected for long, but the more they killed through stealth the less they would have to take on once all hell broke loose.

Seleste motioned at him to make his move, as he did alongside Michael, Valeria and another girl called Fiola. The four carefully made their way into what constituted as the outdoors in the underhive, Sam's eyes immediately drawn to the tall structure in the distance.

It reminded him of the Administratum facility he had seen in District Elestra, only larger and a mix between more dilapidated and regal. The ominous Red Eye was daubed in fluorescent paint over the walls of the central tower, and the original gas lights of the stronghold had been replaced by ones that shed a crimson hue over everything at night.

 _They're not subtle._ But then, the Red Eyes had no reason to be. Everyone in the underhive knew who the dominant power here was, and the rest of Hive Enchellus had long since given up on trying to force any semblance of lawful order on those below them. Ironically the Red Eyes had succeeded where the Arbites failed, although the latter certainly had some part to play in that.

Samias honestly wouldn't be able to name the current leader of the Red Eyes. From what he had heard, the balance of power within the bloated gang constantly shifted between a handful of major figures, each more brutal and tyrannical than the last.

He clasped a big hand to each of his friends' shoulders as they crouched in the doorway, scanning the empty stretch of cracked plascrete that could be considered an alleyway in the loosest of senses for any signs of movement other than the sump rats which scattered at their movements.

They spread out, Samias acutely aware of the three Fangs stealthily trailing him as his movements slowly became more visible. He passed into a more open street, dilapidated huts and fused layers of buildings surrounding him, and spotted two figures in the night – both of which were wearing jackets painted with the Red Eye.

The two were loitering at the edge of the avenue, and Samias wondered if he should just and take out both with his autopistols presently sheathed in his belt. The eighteen year old dismissed the idea as his penchant for reckless heroic speaking – in getting their attention, any other Red Eyes he couldn't see would also reveal themselves.

Sam embraced the surge of hatred he felt as he approached the rival gangers, though he endeavoured not to let it show on his face. The fact that he wasn't instantly identifiable as a Chrome Fang (as with some of them who had inked their allegiance in plain sight) would serve in his favour, as the Red Eyes wouldn't instantly start shooting the second they saw him.

"The fuck you want, kid?" a woman with a scratchy, gruff voice demanded as she turned round to him, the same height as Samias but her spiked flak plate making her bulkier in stature.

"Do you think we look like fucking dealers?" a man holding a red vial that glowed with a malicious, unnatural light snarled, advancing on the boy menacingly. Sure enough, behind the two was a third, another man with a crimson tint to his eyes that paid no heed to the intrusion, giggling to himself as though privy to some joke his comrades weren't aware of.

Dragas's sniper round blew out the woman's left eye, a small explosion of blood accompanying a sudden gurgle of pain as she twisted round with the momentum of the shot. Before he could react, the non-inebriated man was gunned down by a short burst of autorifle fire, standard issue bullets shredding through his exposed chest as he screamed.

"Holy shit," the drugged one gurgled, trying and failing to stumble to his feet and aim his gun at the boy as Samias put a bullet in his head. The man's finger pulled the trigger down as he careened back to the ground, spraying a hail of rounds into the nearby dwellings.

He swivelled his gaze back to the three who had acted as firing support for him as the sound of gunfire echoed throughout the street again, muzzle flare lighting up the gloom and the irregular rhythm of shots swiftly accompanied by more screams.

Instincts took over, the boy diving to the side as lasfire stitched a deadly pattern towards him and the other gangers. He hit something with a wet crunch, warm blood dripping down his shirt – but thankfully not his own. Someone else – sounded like Arad, but he wasn't sure – howled in pain.  
The boy was met by the lifeless stare of the man he had killed. Samias tore his eyes away from the way the Red Eye's face was pulled taut into a rictus grin in his death, pupils unnatural contracted and irises shining with red.

"Fuck, fuck!" a voice – definitely Arad – yelped with a pained hiss, obviously having been shot but not fatally. Samias brandished his autopistol as he rolled off the fresh corpse, sighting a fourth slain Red Eye slumped in a pool of his own blood next to the window of the building across the street from him. Another, the one with the lasweapon, was probably hunkered down in the same place.

He wanted to look over at Dragas and the other two who had been covering him, assess their own position relative to his own and then make a judgement on what to do, but didn't dare remove his eyes from the origin of the gunfire.

The inhabitants of the malformed hab-block were most likely Red Eyes who had reacted quickly to the commotion and gunfire outside, and that meant they were threats that needed killing.

Sam decided that the best thing to do would be to try and lure them into exposing themselves so Dragas could take them out – the longer they spent pinned in the same street the more likely it was that additional Red Eyes would arrive to bolster the one already here. But then again, it was a risky move and if they took the bait too hungrily he'd probably get hit.

 _For fuck's sake why do you always come up with these suicidal plans?_ Samias tried to quell the doubts, resolving to just get it over with before the sheer terror of what he was doing took over and he became rooted to the ground.

 _Well, here goes._

He slowly rose to his feet, tensing his legs in readiness to dive away from any scything bolts of lasfire, but it seemed that the enemy ganger knew what he was doing and didn't react. To fire on Samias would have revealed them to the rest of the Chrome Fangs and the Red Eye evidently favoured saving their own skin rather than opening up a volley on the boy and risking the reprisal of the others on the street.

He had heard that usually the Red Eyes would die for their gang, especially if intoxicated by the Red EX, but maybe that wasn't always the case – loyalty could only run so deep.

Samias flinched back from the sudden _boom_ of Dragas's rifle, a scream emanating from the building as a series of lasbolts sprayed wildly over the street. The eighteen year old threw himself to the ground again and covered his face with his arms in an involuntary defence which would have barely protected him from the lasers had they hit. A short burst of autofire ended the shrieking, followed by a grim laugh.

"Stupid bastard didn't want to shoot but still wanted a look," Vexe, the third ganger protecting Sam chuckled derisively, Dragas simply nodding in response as he reloaded. She turned to Samias as he scrambled back to his feet, heart hammering in his chest as she growled, "That was some dumb shit you pulled then. Guess I should have expected that from you, but try not to do it again, alright?"

"Leave the kid alone. You did a good job, Sammy," Arad, despite being about five years Samias's senior, teased even as he hissed at his own wounds, the lasbolts having scorched a painful trail down his chest. It was a glancing blow – at a better angle it would have pierced right through – but would probably leave a scar, and Sam winced in sympathetic pain.

"You alright, Arad? Can you walk?" he asked, voice full of concern for the older ganger. They needed to reconvene with the rest of the Fangs who would be killing Red Eyes throughout this region of the district so that they could begin to cause more chaos and truly get the attention of the opposing gang.

Vexe snorted, slapping Samias on the shoulder as she passed, "He's fine. Just being melodramatic as usual. Come on, let's move."

"I'd like to see _you_ get shot in the chest," Arad sulked, though his eyes glinted with excitement and adrenaline in the crimson glow that coated everything under the baleful gaze of the central stronghold's bloody luminescence.

They met up with Mikey's group first, who didn't seem to have sustained even a single wound, before coming to the aid of Val's in the last few seconds of a firefight they were too late to influence. Leid, the woman who had trained Samias in sparring many years ago, had been shot in the leg with a spray of bullets and Val herself had a bruise blossoming on her cheek, but other than that there were no casualties.

"You all know the plan. We need to meet up with the Chief. Then the real fun begins," Seleste, already covered in blood and the barrel of her shotgun smoking, grinned viciously.

.*.*.*.

" _There is no place for the weak-willed or hesitant. Only by firm action and resolute faith will mankind survive. No sacrifice is too great. No treachery too small."_

 _\- Liber Doctrina Ordo Hereticus, Chapter XXVIII "Exterminatus"_

Aurelius sat silently in the corroded ruin of a fallen statue which depicted some unknown Imperial figure, blue eyes alert and scanning the stronghold courtyard for any sign of nearby movement that would signal the Red Eyes closing on his position.

The main base of the gang loomed overhead, not the largest building Aurelius had bore witness to by any stretch but unquestionably the tallest in the underhive, the symbol of this particular variety of underhive scum gazing down at them.

The Red Eye daubed generously over the black walls of the structure could certainly be seen as heretical in nature, though from what the Interrogator had seen so far the gang wasn't a Chaos cult seeking the favour of the dark gods but inadvertently attracting Enslavers from the warp instead. Nonetheless, it was another reason to wipe the gang from the face of this world.

As far as Aurelius could tell, the reasonably well kept residence of the Red Eye leaders was of a standard template for structures of Imperial governance, most likely built when Karvonis IV was colonised and abandoned in the wake of either disaster or progress, left to rot in the undercity as the upper hive of Enchellus was constructed. It was perversely fitting that the de facto rulers of the underhive had a similar seat of power to the planetary governor on the surface. Aurelius briefly wondered which was the home of more corruption.

Adept at infiltration as they were, the boy could barely pick out the other members of Julion's retinue that were in his line of sight – even Florencia, garbed in power armour that should have made stealth impossible, managed to stay almost completely invisible.

They wouldn't be able to hide forever, not with the occasional band of Red Eyes going about their nightly business of crime to and from their primary base, but that wasn't the plan anyway.

The seventeen year old tried to stay in a simultaneous attentive yet relaxed frame of mind, as tensing up with the expectation that he would be seen and attacked was a waste of energy.

The group hadn't been here long, having individually slipped into the courtyard and taken refuge in the darkness only a few minutes prior, but the silence and tenseness was beginning to stress Aurelius out as it dragged on.

 _Calm down. You've successfully infiltrated into much more watchfully guarded places than this. Patience is the key._

He couldn't understand why waiting in the shadows was getting to him so much. Perhaps it was the possibility of the Chrome Fangs failing to attract the enemy gang in sufficient numbers or simply reneging on their deal, or perhaps it was simply because he was still worn out from the events of the previous night and hadn't rested enough since then. Either way, weakness was intolerable.

Aurelius sharply twisted towards a sudden explosion in the distance, the embers of a fiery detonation accompanied by a plume of smoke tinted red in the tower lights. The boom was muffled, but not completely hushed by the distance, though much louder was the exclamation of surprise from a voice near to Aurelius's position.

"Shit! What in the name of hell was that?" a woman, her tone raspy, hissed, only a few metres away from where the blonde was huddled.

"Fuck knows," another responded almost nonchalantly, as though spontaneous eruptions of fire were a regularity in the district.

"You idiots, we're under attack!" a third voice snarled, her words drenched in bloodthirst, before he paused. "I'm being told that it's the Chrome Fangs. A whole lot of the bastards too."

 _Ah. So they do have vox capabilities. Excellent._ Whilst usually the ability of their enemies to communicate over lengthy distances usually wasn't ideal, in this situation the faster the news of the attack spread the quicker the Red Eye response would be.

"The … Chrome Fangs? Why the fuck …" the second woman said with her voice split between derision and incredulity.

"It doesn't matter why they're here. All that matters is that we get to kill them. Goresc is sending us to respond, so move it," their leader ordered, the sound of boots pounding on the courtyard growing in number.

Aurelius couldn't help but twist round and peek his head over the crumbled statue he was hidden behind. The Red Eyes, many with their namesake affliction who trembled and drooled, were spilling from their stronghold. One in particular caught the boy's eye; a huge brute of a man that carried a large slug weapon one-handed and was draped in a crimson cloak that barely made its way over his unnaturally muscular form.

The beastly man shoved other members of his gang out of the way as some injected themselves with glowing vials of what could only be Red EX. Aurelius was uncertain if the drug was a combat stimulant or not from what limited description Michael had provided to them, or merely if the violent thugs wanted the sensations of the battle soon to come to be heightened.

So far, he hadn't seen or detected the presence of any Enslavers, as his Pariah abilities even on the suppression level they were currently at would be enhanced by the proximity of conduits to the warp. He hoped it would remain that way. The Chrome Fangs had no real way of combatting them.

" _Garulf here. We have their attention. I suggest you move quick,_ " the crackle of the vox bead interrupted the Interrogator's chain of thoughts, and he nodded before realising the futility of the action (and glad no one had seen the mistake).

"Interrogator Aurelius here," he whispered, knowing that the high quality of the devices would allow the words to be transmitted regardless, "Your message is received. I see the Red Eyes leaving. May the Emperor guide your hands."

" _And He yours,_ " the Chief responded. It caught Aurelius off guard, having not expected his faithful declaration to be acknowledged by a ganger.

" _Samias-_ "

" _Seleste here. Nothing to report that the Chief didn't already say. Sorry, Samias. He's next to me though so it's fine,"_ the woman cut in. Aurelius could have shook his head, though rationally it made sense that an underequipped gang living in abject poverty wouldn't have followed proper vox etiquette.

His blue eyes scanning the courtyard as Red Eyes eager for the unfolding carnage quickly vacated it, Aurelius met gazes with the Inquisitor concealed in the shadow of the building's main entrance. He nodded quickly to the man, signalling with a flick of his fingers that they should proceed.

He made another quick survey of the surrounding area just to ensure that he wouldn't be seen, before sprinting across to his master, taking refuge in the darkness cast by the large doorway's carved edges next to Julion – the Inquisitor speaking softly into his own vox bead.

Julion and Udanya were each equipped a communications device identical to the one Aurelius had in his own ear, only set to an alternate frequency in order to facilitate contact between the two – and so that the younger Interrogator wouldn't be distracted by their quick messages whilst directing the Chrome Fangs.

It had been agreed earlier that Udanya, Strask and Maratha would infiltrate the upper regions of the governance facility whilst Julion, Florencia and Aurelius himself would explore the lower parts and any possible underground areas. He could see the three using a grappling hook launched by the Mechanicus adept to rappel upwards towards an open window they had identified earlier.

The hypothesis was that the Enslavers, if any were present, would be confined to the lower floors if, as prior evidence had suggested, the relationship was more parasitical than the complete domination the xenos were known for in classified records and the Red Eyes maintained relative autonomy.

Additionally the Red EX manufacturing laboratories had the greatest probability of being situated underground and samples of the drug at its source would be beneficial to acquire as well as destroy (even if there was likely more than one supply plant).

Meanwhile Udanya's group would be searching for any Red Eye leaders that had chosen not to enter the battle soon to begin for both interrogation and subsequent assassination if necessary.

Usually, Maratha would have accompanied the sub-squadron assigned to the more scientific objective with her chemical analysis apparatus at the ready (the few times the heresy they had dealt with delved into that path at any rate), but the requirement of Aurelius to counteract the vile abilities of the Enslavers meant that he was needed in the underground group.

That necessitated Julion's presence to both examine and direct his youngest Interrogator as well as lead the main focus of the operation. Finally, either Florencia or Strask – the combat specialists – were needed in each of the two teams.

The boy's group had the arguably more perilous task of sneaking in through the main entrance, although such a brazen move wasn't often what one considered when creating countermeasures against possible espionage.

"The gangers have got their attention," Aurelius murmured, considering the redundancy of the statement as his running from safety surely would have indicated that alongside the earlier explosion, but wanting to be crystal clear so that their part in the operation could begin.

"And thus do we begin?" Florencia's voice nearly startled the young Interrogator, though he refused to show it. She was behind him, and though he marvelled at her ability to move so quietly in the armour he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable between the Sister of Battle and the Inquisitor.

"I believe the way is clear," Julion motioned, Florencia taking her cue and slipping into the open entrance. If any Red Eyes had been expecting their entrance or were stragglers that had just reached the exit, the Sister would have a greater chance of surviving an assault.

The Inquisitor and his youngest student swiftly followed, emerging into a barely lit foyer which would have held and entertained guests to the old governors' residence but was now lacking in any of the refinement such a place might once have held. In its place was a crude rendition of opulence, scarlet fabrics which would have been difficult to come by in the undercity draped across the floor and banners with a more stylised Red Eye sewn into the centre hanging from pillars which would once have displayed Imperial heraldry.

It was all designed to flaunt power, show any that might enter that the Red Eye gang wasn't simply a group of scum dredged up from the regions of the hive most of it would like to forget. To Aurelius, it all came off as overcompensation, but then the boy reflected that he had seen too many displays of those who actually had proper influence and that he wouldn't be the target audience.

The area was empty aside from the three who had just entered, though voices could be heard echoing in distant corridors closing in on their position.

Maintaining the state of being undetected was paramount – each of the Inquisitorial agents was likely a match for several of the gangers, but the risks, nor the delay, of an open engagement were something they could not afford.

Logically, Julion led them right, the opposite direction of the oncoming thugs, moving as fast as they could manage keeping their noise level to a minimum. The trio stepped quickly into a corridor, lightly furnished but gradually fading to the drab grey of rockcrete as they progressed further into the repurposed palace.

Aurelius had memorised a series of standard Imperial facility layouts years ago, including the template for a planetary governor's Administratum stronghold replicated on thousands of worlds, and so far the mental map he had of where they were now had shown no deviances. That could soon change, as there was no telling what modifications the Red Eyes could have made over the years.

Julion waved for them to halt, pointing towards a nearby door left ajar – the first that they had passed which wasn't visibly locked. Florencia entered first again, her power armoured bulk filling the doorway for a moment before she disappeared inside.

Aurelius shut the door behind him, frowning at the obviously broken locking mechanism that he would have automatically engaged before walking to where Julion was pacing around a central table.

The room would have been a small storage facility for pertinent documents taken from the main archives so that they could be accessed quickly by the officials running the hive colony, but with Red Eye occupation was mostly empty, a few random stacks of decaying papers and vandalised data slates all that remained of its original purpose. It would function as a place to regroup even if it wasn't ideal.

"We need to decide upon what route to take and where what we seek is likely located," the Inquisitor halted, fixing a stony glance upon the Pariah as he and Florencia swapped places. The Sister of Battle kept her watchful gaze on the outer corridor to ensure that nothing would be interrupting their impromptu planning session.

Aurelius rationally knew that his master was asking him because of his affinity for near perfect recall of previously memorised information, but a tiny part of him whispered that the implication was Julion expecting him to _somehow_ be able to divine the path as a result of his unnatural gifts.

The Interrogator wished he could reach out across reality and locate any psychic influence, any ripples in the fabric of realspace that would herald the presence of the Enslavers they were hunting. Unfortunately, Pariah abilities didn't work that way, so the three were stuck with conventional tactics.

"A standard pattern Class-A colonisation and governance Administratum facility such as this one possesses five subterranean layers – three layers of archival storage, and then two smaller layers underneath that to safeguard and feed the hive leadership in the event of an attack," he explained, though figured the extended explanation probably wasn't necessary.

"That's too many for us to search through in the time we have," Julion said darkly, Aurelius making a conscious effort not to start tapping slender fingers on the wooden tabletop – aware that it would only serve to distract their thoughts, "We need to narrow it down."

"How much information do you think a low ranking gang member would have access to, sir?"

"It will have to be enough. I don't see us capturing one in the upper hierarchies as they probably surround themselves with lackeys. We'll have to take what we can find, at any rate," the Inquisitor concluded, before turning from Aurelius and pressing down on his own vox bead – conveying the same orders to Udanya along with an additional directives to immediately pass on any information concerning the whereabouts of the Enslavers should they extract it.

The blonde took the moment of relative tranquillity to activate the main frequency of the vox and update the Chrome Fangs on the situation.

"Interrogator Aurelius here. We have successfully infiltrated the target and have commenced searching for the Enslavers," his tone was its normal clipped and neutral, standard practice over a vox network in any case, "Report your conditions."

" _Seleste here,_ " the woman's voice crackled with interference yet Aurelius could still perceive the tell-tale sounds of gunfire, " _We're fighting the bastards now._ "

" _I'm fighting too,_ " the blonde wasn't surprised that Samias had abandoned the protocol of announcing the identity of who was speaking, but now was definitely not the time to admonish him for that fact.

After a short pause the third response buzzed in, " _Garulf here. The Red Eyes sent a-"_

The man cut out for a moment, a sizzling hiss of lasfire the only thing that could be heard through the vox before he continued, "a _whole damn army. We'll hold out as long as we can, but that won't be long. Hurry and alert the Arbites as soon as you can."_

"Interrogator Aurelius here. Your perseverance is admirable and will not be in vain. I'll keep you updated on our progress," the boy ended the communique to find the Inquisitor's eyes resting on him, having finished his own terse discussion with Udanya. Aurelius's sight had become unfocused as he concentrated on the vox and what words to say to the gangers risking their lives for them.

"Shall we continue?" Julion beckoned to the door Florencia was guarding, his gaze as inscrutable as always.

Aurelius couldn't empathise with others that well anymore, his ability for recognising emotion greatly hampered by his own inability to feel the majority of its effect, but he could still use what knowledge he had acquired to identify what those around him were feeling from behavioural clues – even if he didn't know how to act on it.

But to say that sort of method didn't work on the Inquisitor was an understatement. His master wore enigma like a mask, carefully curating his facial features and posture to show nothing in a way that Aurelius was familiar with (though he employed it for a significantly different purpose).

He knew enough by now to be aware that the man was always judging him, even if he assessed different actions with varying degrees. The problem was that he could never tell if his evaluation was positive, if his newly promoted Interrogator was acting well in his eyes.

Aurelius shook his head lightly as he followed his master to clear his mind of the murky, distracting thoughts. Becoming bogged down in doubt, constantly hesitating as he thought of what would please the Inquisitor most and second-guessing himself at every turn as he strived for perfection could destroy him if he wasn't careful.

It was impossible to pretend he wasn't constantly under scrutiny, feeling the pressure of it now more than ever (even as he affected an air of emotionless detachment) after he was elevated to one of Julion's direct students and possible successors, but to let it affect him too much and compromise his ability to function would disappoint the Inquisitor even more.

They re-entered the corridor, carrying on in a path down to the lower floors whilst keeping a lookout for any Red Eyes. Whether they were stragglers delaying their path to the defence of their territory out of cowardice or incompetence, guards assigned to the stronghold layers or those with a purpose too important to distract from, there was bound to be enemy gangers in their path.

In fact, it was what they were currently searching for. Not those who were in groups and would be difficult to overcome, but lone individuals that they could exploit.

It didn't take long. Whether by sheer chance or through the Emperor's blessed hand, arriving at an intersection of two perpendicular corridors presented them with the sound of footsteps heading in their direction – a light, regular pattern signifying only one inhabitant of the old facility growing slowly louder as they approached.

Julion silently pointed to a relatively large box of some sort and glancing at his apprentice. The boy nodded and followed the unspoken order – whilst the other two could have probably hidden themselves where the blonde was intending to, it would have been a tighter fit.

Aurelius crouched, slowly pacing towards the cover, a nearby weapons container, and hiding on the other side of it to the man. If they were heading for that or striding past it would afford the Interrogator with ample chance to attack.

The Inquisitor and Sister of Battle remained out of sight behind the corridor wall, ready to approach when the boy had captured the new target. Aurelius quietened his breathing, pressing his thin form to the side of the case that had either been pillaged or purchased from official Imperial suppliers and rebranded with a customary Red Eye.

He slipped off the black glove of his left hand, flexing pale fingers in the dim light, and slowly reduced the suppression factor of the Animus crystal at his throat to the next level – not quite to the intensity he was intending for it, but not enough to suddenly alert the mark that something was terribly wrong by invading his senses with disturbing wrongness.

The ganger, a shortish man who made up for his lack of height with stalwart bulk, reached down to open the cache and pull a gun out. As he did so, the boy gradually adjusting the muffling of his Pariah nature until it was the level below that of the minimum he was authorised to access.

Aurelius pounced, shooting out of hiding and wrapping his bare hand around the ganger's mouth, his hellpistol placed firmly against the man's skull. The ganger screamed, his body filled with pure terror as he howled, kicking back frantically against Aurelius.

The Interrogator had anticipated such a response and the flailing was rendered futile by a couple of short steps. The Red Eye still shrieked against the boy's hand, his voice raw and tears of sheer horror spilling down his cheeks and onto Aurelius's fingers.

"Be quiet," the blonde hissed, his tone dark and insidious, pressing in the barrel of his gun for good measure. The ganger did as he was told, his muffled cries replaced by desperate sobs, shaking against the boy's grip as if he was crushing him into submission.

In truth, Aurelius was barely touching him at all, his hand essentially the only point of contact between the two aside from his pistol and his arm lightly brushing against thick shoulders. Had he been able, the ganger would have easily been able to wrench himself out of such an insubstantial hold.

"Tell us what we want to know and I will let you live," he whispered, coils of the void twisting his words into something far more sinister. The effect of releasing his powers to this level was profound, and yet not significantly different to the previous, allowing his aura to expand in blossoming darkness alongside the usual excruciating clarity it inflicted upon the world, but only somewhat intensifying its power.

However, the perils of contact were changed substantially. From something that others could tolerate for very short moments evoking disgust and disorientation touch became paralysing, flooding whoever had the misfortune of it with terror and malevolent, unnatural pain their bodies weren't built to handle. His hands merely concentrated that effect to a focal point, as if his null aura took him initiating contact with others as an excuse to intensify at that region.

He released the man's mouth slowly, refusing to grimace as the ganger retched up the contents of his stomach, stringy vomit mixing with the tears as it cascaded down his face. Aurelius placed his hand round the side of the man's throat, not applying any pressure but retaining the skin to skin contact.

The ganger had a cold sweat, moistening rough skin beneath the boy's soft, unblemished own, but Aurelius tried to push away the unwelcome sensation of direct touch between himself and another human.

"Wha … what do you want?" the terrified Red Eye stammered out between gasps and sobs after he had thrown up. Aurelius flicked his eyes up, the Inquisitor and Florencia having emerged to stand in front of him and his victim, the Sister's own golden orbs filled to the brim with revulsion. It wasn't something that he had wanted to see, but the mission superseded his own personal feelings.

He caught his reflection in the woman's power armour, its appearance distorted in the black sheen, but he already knew how he would look. Icy eyes would be darkened, a winter's sky blue becoming a starless night. Wisps of void darkness would be playing about his pale skin in the corner of the eyes of those who viewed him only to fade away into sharp clarity should they focus on them.

"Where do you hold the Enslaver xenos?" he questioned, refusing to let the sudden remorse and sharp reminder that he was nothing more than a monster get in the way of the interrogation.

"I don't … I don't know what an Enslaver is, I swear!" the man quivered, shutting his eyes and blubbering, choking on his sobs and making horrible pained noises.

Aurelius lifted up his fingers, holding onto the man's other clothed shoulder and bringing his arm round the front to restrain him instead of touching his skin. There was nothing to be gained from exposing the ganger to too much null energy – letting him expire before they got the information they needed would be careless, and despite the fact that his aura would still be spilling over the poor thug he would be able to think slightly more clearly.

The moment he did so, perhaps without even meaning to do it, the man tried to shove forwards and break out – anything to escape from the Interrogator's presence. Aurelius pressed his gun in harder into the temple where it was resting, the ganger's resistance crushed when he suddenly realised the mundane but very deadly weapon the boy had.

"Have you seen, or heard anything about any xenos?" the boy tried again, still little more than a mutter into his ear that would be barely heard over his frightened crying had he not been so close.

"No … I … don't know … I don't know," he pushed out between irregular, harsh breaths, shaking his head until Aurelius stilled him with a small push of his gun. The man's voice became pleading, "Please … don't kill me … please just leave me alone … I haven't-"

"The Red EX. Where do you make and store it?" Aurelius cut in, uninterested in his begging for mercy. Besides, he found it highly unlikely a member of such a violent, repugnant gang would be an innocent soul.

"We store it … all five floors below. We make it on the third and fourth," his tone switched from stuttering between sobs to blurting out information as fast as he could, probably realising that his unnatural assailant was more likely to keep him alive if he remained useful, "But we aren't allowed on the fourth floor. Maybe that's where your xenos are? I don't know, I've never been. The boss said he'd skin us and hang our bodies in the streets if we did."

"Anything else?" the boy pressed, keeping his voice a growl involuntarily inflected with malevolence.

"No, no – nothing. That's all I know, I promise you. Like I said, I don't go down there. I'm assigned to this level. I don't really take the stuff anyway, I'm sober, just look at my eyes," the ganger was babbling now, panic stricken and gasping for breath.

Aurelius locked eyes with his master, who nodded. He silently released the ganger, stepping past and twisting his Animus back to the second lowest extent of Pariah expression before slipping on his glove once again, wincing as his pounding headache returned in full force as if punishing him for existing without it for a short moment.

He didn't turn around as Florencia reached forwards, cutting short the Red Eye's confused protests with a snap of his neck before dumping his body in the weapons crate.

It wouldn't conceal the corpse for much time, but would do more than just leaving it lying in the corridor. They would probably be long gone before the murder was uncovered, and doubtlessly many more would be committed in the Red Eye stronghold before the mission was finished – without even factoring in the melta charges Julion carried.

"To the fourth floor then. We should expect resistance," Julion cautioned, calculating gaze (one that the recipient had often tried to emulate) searing into Aurelius once more. The boy erased the feeling of the ganger's skin crawling beneath his own, as dwelling on it would only give rise to more self-loathing that he was in no situation to wallow in.

 _The Emperor's divine light guides me. I am beholden to no one but Him and my master._

"The Red Eyes can try to stop us," Florencia murmured, the first time she had spoken since entering their current enemy's headquarters.

"I'm certain that they will. The Enslavers - or whatever else they hold on a floor with restricted access – will be protected even in the event of an attack on the outside," the Inquisitor spoke quietly yet with the conviction of a man who barely knew the meaning of being wrong.

Aurelius remained silent throughout the exchange, having nothing meaningful to add to the discussion. He would be glad to get to the bottom of this operation and find out what the gang had been hiding.

.*.*.*.

Samias shot a howling woman hurtling towards their position in the chest with two bullets, the final in the clip he was using. She stumbled forwards, her screaming charge stalled but not halted as she crashed into him.

Not expecting that she would survive past the gunshots, Samias felt a surge of panic as he was rammed backwards. He reached out a hand, grabbing at the woman's wrist as she swung a serrated machete at him.

The ganger shrieked furiously, bloody froth dripping from her open mouth and her eyes alight with unnatural crimson as she tried to drive the knife into the boy. She was strong, and Samias had to drop his pistol in order to grasp onto both of her forearms, but now that her forwards momentum was finished he could equal her in strength.

He swept out a leg, slamming her in the shins and knocking her onto her back – the knife clattering to the ground next to her as it slipped from her grip. Samias scrabbled down for it, turning back to his assailant ready to plunge it into her throat, yet only finding that she had expired with a wet cough.

The Chrome Fangs were holed up at the end of the street they had initially emerged from, a wave of Red Eyes funnelled into the area embroiled in combat with the rival gang. The freshly slain corpses of the first patrol to have located the Fangs, riddled with bullets, lay strewn about in the decrepit avenue.

There wasn't enough space to fit all of the gangers in the building with the sewer grate, so instead they made their stand in the rubble and ruin of the street outside – using the crumbling undercity road and the debris from infrastructure that had been collapsing for millennia as impromptu cover.

A larger group of enemies had quickly arrived after the first squadron had been cut down before they even fired a bullet in response, crazed Red Eyes living up to their name soaking up the disparate storms of gunfire as they hurtled at the Fangs' positions.

Sam exchanged the blade for his hastily discarded pistol, loading it with a second clip and scanning over the fight to see who was in the most danger as he did so.

Jamie, blonde hair glimmering in the muzzle flare of his autogun, fired a full round into a laughing warrior clad in improvised flak armour and wielding a spiked chain that he swung above his head.

Despite several of the rounds piercing his armour and rupturing the flesh underneath with bloody impact, the drug-infused psycho seemed unaffected. He hurled the chain at Jamie, snagging round his gun arm as barbed wire dug into his skin and yanking him onto his face.

Samias levelled his pistol and shot him in the head. The resilience that must have been conferred by the Red EX didn't stop that from killing the ganger. He ran over and grabbed round his friend's thin waist and onto his unwounded arm, hauling him to his feet.

"Thanks for the assist. Fuckers just won't die," Jamie tried to growl, though his voice was shot through with high pitched notes of pain. He reached out to his other arm, blood cascading from the points where the chain wrapped round it had pierced the skin and snagged.

"Hold still," Samias batted the older male's shaking hands away and quickly unravelled the wire ignoring Jamie's cries of agony – the blonde would have just got himself tangled in it further by trying to pull it off without causing himself more pain. That was how the chains were designed.

"Fuck! I hate you, Samias!" he shouted, wrenching his bloody arm away and cradling it gently. The addressed shook his head, knowing his friend would be grateful for it eventually. He snapped his gaze around the battle, watching as Michael shot down a Red Eye trying to take cover before sprinting over to him.

"You two ok?" the silver haired youth inquired, out of breath himself but otherwise unscathed. The violence seemed to have abated again, the last of the Red Eyes finished off by a pinpoint sniper round from Dragas himself. Samias wasn't naïve enough to believe the relative peace would last for longer than a few minutes – nor that this was the extent of the opposing gang's military capacity.

"Your friend Sammy here needs to be taught not to rip shit out of people's arms," Jamie scowled, ripping off fabric from his shirt and wrapping a makeshift bandage round the bleeding holes in his right forearm.

Samias rolled his eyes and flipped the older boy off, sharing a forced grin with Michael before replying as if Jamie hadn't spoken, "We're fine. Hope Aurelius gets a move on though."

"Uh huh," the smaller of the two nodded, before musing, "I wonder what they're finding inside there. Bet the Red Eyes have all sorts of fucked up shit hidden in their base."

"Probably. I mean, that Enslaver we saw was the very definition of "fucked up shit"," Valeria commented, causing all three boys to spin around in alarm. She sighed despairingly, adding an admonishing, "Don't get distracted just 'cause we aren't fighting right this second."

Samias was glad his closest friends had managed to gather round him in this short lull. There wasn't much in the way of grand strategy dictating the way the Chrome Fangs fought, groups of tightly-knit comrades battling together to survive. Sure, some gravitated around the more experienced and higher ranking members of the gang, but that was more because they had a greater chance there than anywhere else.

With them here instead of spread out across the fight, they could both work together in a way that had got them out of tight situations throughout the years and Samias could protect them with much more ease.

He couldn't resist a short fiddling with the vox bead burning a hole in his ear. There must have been _some_ reason Aurelius had given it to him instead of any of the others. Maybe it was just because he had been the closest to the Interrogator; Samias couldn't remember. He liked to think it was because Aurelius trusted him with responsibility, but it was more likely that he preferred Sam a marginally greater amount to his friends since he _had_ saved him from an incoming missile.

The eighteen year old had to fight the temptation to initiate contact with Aurelius to confirm that affairs were still progressing smoothly at his end – equally because he wanted to know if the Pariah was still alright and talk to him and to affirm that they would be getting out of here soon.

The longer they remained in Red Eye territory, the more the danger would rise. Samias wasn't scared for himself ( _well, maybe a little_ ), but was concerned for his friends and the family that was the wider gang. He was on edge not knowing how much time they would have to spend here.

It would be unwise to divert the boy's from their mission and to distract both the Chief and Garulf. Had it been a one-to-one channel, Samias might have considered it more strongly, but unnecessary chatter for the sole purpose of his comfort would be frowned upon by everyone else that would have to respond to it.

"You phased out for a second there buddy. Are you sure you're alright?" Michael gave him a gentle shove. Samias turned, ready to shove his friend back (marginally harder, which would have definitely made Val more annoyed) before a blaring noise interrupted the thought.

" _Greetings, Chrome Fangs. I am Goresc, Marshal of the Red Eyes,_ " the heavily amplified voice boomed down the ruin-borne cul de sac scratchy with interference at such a high volume that Samias winced and covered his ears.

Shudders ran down his spine, though whether it was the reverberation of the words throughout his body or what they meant he didn't know. Goresc, known as the Bloody Gaze, was one of the main contenders for dominance over the whole Red Eye gang, and tales of his gratuitous brutality were common within the underhive. If he was here, that meant they had definitely overstayed their welcome.

" _I don't know what you thought you could achieve by coming here, but I'm glad you did. I needed a good excuse to kill someone today,_ " the man laughed, distorted by the amplifier into something unnatural. Samias tried to pinpoint the source of the noise, but aside from "outside the street they were currently in" he couldn't tell where it was originating from.

Almost without thinking, he attached a hand to Michael's shoulder, refusing to let himself or his friend be intimidated.

" _Let's move. Leave some alive – we'll have fun with them later,_ " the words might not have been spoken directly to the Chrome Fangs but were certainly intended for them.

Sam gulped, checking that his pistol was at full capacity and grasping at his second one. Wielding both reduced his accuracy, though the doubled rate of fire was more than worth that trade off.

He had a feeling he'd be needing it soon.


	6. Seeing Red (Part 2)

Aurelius's hushed footsteps barely touched the stairs as he descended, the knowledge from his archival memory of the repurposed Administratum headquarters that the stairway would take them to any floor firmly in his mind.

There would be elevators present in the building as well, which would have saved time – but it was unknown whether or not the Red Eyes would have maintained their state of repair and using one could easily lead them directly into gangers without the ability to backtrack.

All of this he had quietly explained to the Inquisitor when questioned on his rationale for choosing the stairs that they had located after their ad hoc interrogation of a Red Eye. It was a strange thing to query him on, in the Pariah's mind at least, but then he supposed that to become an Inquisitor he needed the ability to act logically in the field as well as conduct grand investigations on the macro scale and possess an extensive knowledge of Imperial structure and law.

Florencia darted down the stairs in front of him, before halting when they came to the next floor. Aurelius watched as she stared down the doorway presented to them, an identical corridor to the previous layer extending out from it.

They kept moving after that. Checking the levels that weren't their current target had a twofold purpose – to ensure that no Red Eyes were patrolling them in great numbers that could be detrimental when it came to make their exit, and to check if there wasn't anything significant that could be seen from a cursory inspection alone.

So far the operation had gone smoothly enough. His master had contacted Udanya once more over his private channel, but hadn't mentioned anything to Aurelius about the other team's status. If he had more pride than sense, he might have been irked that despite Julion's assertions that this was his operation the Inquisitor had essentially assumed command over his retinue inside the stronghold, but Aurelius didn't truly mind.

As long as it wasn't a poor reflection of his own abilities, he was happy to defer to Julion's directions. Besides, the man was letting him make plenty of decisions, and he was in charge of the gangers.

 _Speaking of …_

" _Garulf here. The Red Eyes are starting to send more troops,_ " emotions didn't carry well over the vox, but even Aurelius could tell that the Chief was concerned, " _A status report would be appreciated._ "

"Interrogator Aurelius here," the boy replied quietly, glad that the high-power vox would pick up even his mumblings as they moved, "We are closing in on the target as I speak. I will tell you when we have located it and will alert the Arbites."

It was a lie, nonetheless a necessary one. They couldn't be certain that the Enslavers or evidence of them were even situated on the fourth subterranean floor, but telling the Chrome Fangs that would only end in reducing their morale and resolution to continue fighting.

They needed to think that their Inquisition allies were almost finished, otherwise they could easily decided to retreat and abandon their duties.

" _You'd better be quick,_ " Seleste near hissed. Aurelius blinked, not expecting the sudden vehemence in her tone. The gangers they had aligned with were unmistakably in the thick of it now. " _That was Seleste._ "

" _Samias here. Stay safe, Aurelius,_ " if Seleste's response had been surprising, Samias's definitely caught him off guard. Though perhaps it shouldn't have given the personality model he had assigned to the older boy.

He felt something warm and unfamiliar in his chest, something fleeting that vanished before he could capture and dissect it, and without even considering the course of action murmured, "You too."

Aurelius would have stood still if they hadn't have needed to keep descending, such was his shock in replying before thinking what he was doing. _Idiot. Why did you do that?_

Belatedly, he realised that he hadn't activated his bead's voice transmitting, and breathed a sigh of strangely conflicted relief that his lapse hadn't been captured and projected over the vox. It would seem to them that he had ignored the concern for him that Samias had shown – exactly how he would prefer to keep it.

The seventeen year old dismissed the distractions from the task at hand. He needed to retain focus, and was glad that his master probably wouldn't have noticed his stark slip in concentration.

They passed by the second and third underground levels, the corridors leading out from the entrances to each less furnished, unpainted bare rock that progressed into rooms with a faint crimson glow emanating from within.

Soon enough, the doorway to the fourth loomed, prompting the trio to halt in their rapid descent. Florencia approached the metal door warily, the lack of an observation panel as with those for the levels above the first sign of something differently.

Aurelius relaxed his breathing, hot-shot laspistol firm in his hands but not in an overly tight grip. The Sister slowly opened the door, stepping into another passage carved from the rock, lumen bulbs hammered into the ceiling providing weak illumination overhead.

It was cold, and the blonde's breath was visible as he entered. It was expected for the underground regions to be so in times where their use wasn't required by the governor's family and staff, but this low of a temperature signified something else.

Small wisps of steam rose up from Florencia's armour, the woman stalking forwards as quietly as Aurelius himself despite weighing roughly triple in the powered plate. The youngest suppressed a shiver, flinching violently as condensation dripped down onto him from above. He squared his shoulders, pretending that he hadn't been about to unleash a volley of death at the ceiling.

This corridor was shorter than the others, leading to only one destination – what looked to be a very secure door on the other side, layers of metal plating reminiscent of the ablative armour used in the Astra Militarum's war machines defiantly blocking their path.

There was a unlocking mechanism of some sort, a key card identification system that gangers in the undercity shouldn't have access to. Aside from that, there seemed to be no other way of opening the thick door.

 _If only Maratha was down here,_ Aurelius scowled as he scanned it for any weak points. The Mechanicum priest would have been able to hack the lock with reasonable ease and could have overrode its system with a concentrated pulse of electricity if the former proved too difficult.

"How do you suggest we proceed, Aurelius?" Julion's inquiry brought him back into the present. Given that the Red Eyes had gone to such lengths protecting whatever was in here it was obvious that something of interest to their operation was held within, but none of the three would know a way to hack into it. Right now, they were stuck.

"It's too thick for me to break it open," Florencia muttered, gently tapping the surface with metal-clad fingers before pushing against it. Aurelius hadn't intended to suggest that at any rate – such had been evident from a cursory glance alone – but she had nevertheless given him an idea.

He stepped forwards, splaying his own hand onto the cold metal as Florencia moved back. It was thick, but he couldn't tell exactly how. It was a blast door, a similar type to that which probably would have been in the building long ago, but denser than even that.

"We could use a single melta charge?" he proposed, voice unfortunately carrying how unsure he was of the dubious idea as he flicked his eyes back to the Inquisitor. If his estimations were correct, the door should be thick enough to allow the superheated, controlled explosion to pierce through without any excess energy to destroy everything else in the vicinity.

A krak explosive would have been preferred to breach something that wasn't quite vault grade thickness, but they would have to make do with what they possessed. Aurelius hoped the idea wouldn't be viewed as idiotic.

"A good strategy," the Inquisitor gave him a small grin, though his ferocious eyes showed more ardent conviction than satisfaction at his suggestion or praise. Julion always became more passionate when they were close to reaching their goals, shifting from a stern and ruthlessly analytical presence to one filled with holy purpose. "Florencia, if you would?"

"As you command," the Adepta Sororitas warrior nodded dutifully, detaching one hemispherical charge from a small belt around her armoured waist as the Inquisitor and his apprentice paced away from the door. She twisted the short detonation pin at the top, setting the timer for twenty seconds and mag-locking it to the door next to its left edge before following the example of the two men and retreating from the set melta bomb.

Aurelius halted when they reached the staircase – it should be safe enough at this distance, but any more than that and whoever (or _whatever_ ) was located inside would be afforded too great an opportunity to react.

"We must be ready to act as soon as the melta activates," Julion told him, an unnecessary reminder but one that Aurelius didn't truly mind. Florencia unclasped her helm from where it had rested at her hip, fixing the seals over the black gorget as yellow light emanated from the eyepieces of the attached helmet.

The boy averted his eyes to the floor, placing his hand above them to provide more cover. It was most likely pointless this far away, but there was no reason to risk being blinded if the superheated ignition reaction produced more light than was expected.

The second-spaced ticks of the charge were barely audible over the _plinks_ of condensed water dripping down from above and his own frosted breaths.

Aurelius mentally counted down the time, hellpistol ready at his side.

 _Five … four … three …_

With a sudden displacement of air, the door began to open, prompting the blonde to abandon the deference of his gaze to the floor and glance up in alarm. A ganger stood in the doorway, the Munitorum grade lasrifle lazily hanging from a strap round her shoulder raised in startled bemusement at the three stood at the opposite end of the corridor.

 _Two … one …_

A _whoosh_ of scorching hot air was all the warning she got before a blue-white ball of fire melted through the metal door, blowing it clean off the hinges embedded in the rock. It slammed into the ganger, crushing her against the wall with a sickening crunch of broken bones.

 _Well, that works._

Florencia was the first to move, striding across the half-molten ruin of the door and the unseen corpse beneath it before beginning a charge, metal footfalls pounding on the stone floor and her chainsword whirring into violent motion. Aurelius and Julion ran after her, leaping over the obstruction (having to take more care than the armour clad Sister), the sounds of confused shouts resounding from the room they had just breached.

Florencia crashed into a ganger as she entered, a heavy torrent of autorifle rounds pattering ineffectually off of her power armoured bulk. The man was sent flying by the momentum, and she swung her chainsword in a wide arc into a ganger firing on her from the right.

The whirling blades met flesh, tearing it apart in a fountain of blood as their victim screamed. Florencia bisected the Red Eye, his separated upper and lower body falling to the now metal floor like some cartoonish mockery of violence even as the ground was drenched in his vitae.

The Sister of Battle rolled behind a table, autorifle fire following her movements in stitching patterns of bullets before their sewers registered that she wasn't the only threat. Her power armour was formidable, but it didn't render her invulnerable, and she had pushed its integrity to the limit.

Julion put a pinpoint bolt into the throat of one, the mass reactive piercing through the unprotected skin before detonating in a cloud of gore. Aurelius shot the second, an equally precise streak of light catching the gunner in the chest and knocking her off of her feet. He followed it up with another shot, this one a killing blow.

The Inquisitor strode into the room proper, almost contemptuously executing the ganger Florencia had initially incapacitated as he writhed on the ground in agony clutching his leg.

"Was that the last of them?" Florencia's voice, modified by her helm's vocal receptors into something more akin to a mechanical angel than a woman, rang out into the sudden silence as she emerged from cover.

"I believe so," Julion replied, slotting a couple of extra bolts into his clip to replenish those he had expended. The area they had entered was starkly different to those they had passed through, more akin to a laboratory than a storage space.

Large reactors hummed quietly to themselves and were surrounded by coolant generators absorbing the excess heat and keeping the room at a constantly low temperature. An array of scientific apparatus was situated in the centre of white tables that, while not completely aseptic, were the cleanest things Aurelius had laid eyes upon in the wretched underbelly of Enchellus so far, excluding the one covered in freshly spilt blood.

There was equipment – some the boy recognised but more that he didn't (though could probably infer the function of) scattered sparsely around the tables, but what was far more interesting were the glass cylinders, a few partially filled with amniotic fluids arranged across one wall. Aurelius hadn't seen specimen containers before, yet these matched with what the mental picture he had conjured up looked like.

About half of the support sockets did not have a corresponding cylinder, and the rest were inactive, which meant-

"The Enslavers aren't here," Julion uttered darkly, frustration coiling in his suddenly murderous tone, "But they were. These containers unmistakably must have held them."

"Did they anticipate us coming?" Aurelius asked, suppressing his own futile anger at the fact they were too late by occupying his mind scanning the rest of the makeshift laboratory.

"Unlikely. See how exactly half of the cells have been detached from their supports, and how everything seems relatively organised? Whoever was consorting with the Enslavers here didn't leave it in a hurry," Julion concluded, clenching his fists, "But that's merely conjecture. Damnit all to hell."

Aurelius noticed a vial of faintly glowing scarlet held in a rack next to one of the distillation sets, gazing at the dataslate conveniently laid out next to it with curious interest.

He scrolled to the top of the file imprinted on the slate, eyes widening as he read what appeared to be detailed instructions for synthesis of an array of liquids – all of which shared a similar chemical composition but differed in small amounts, via procedural changes or slightly different starting materials.

"Sir?" Aurelius meekly beckoned his master over once the man's attention had fixed on him as he spoke, "The Red Eyes in here were still using this facility to manufacture what I think are variations on the Red EX drug."

He passed the sample vial over to the Inquisitor, who glanced into its murky crimson depths for a short moment before spearing the dataslate in Aurelius's hands with a piercing gaze as the blonde showed him what he had perused.

"Ah," was all the response he got, the anger fading somewhat from the man's grey eyes, before he cast them across the room with renewed determination, "We'll see if we can find anything else – particularly any mention of the Enslavers. Maratha can analyse this," he carefully pocketed the sample Aurelius had found, "later."

Aurelius flicked through the virtual pages interred within the dataslate, acutely aware that he was directly ignoring the Inquisitor's order to continue searching around the laboratory for any more information concerning the Red Eye's goals and what they had done with the Enslavers. It was quite an extensive document, prepared by someone who was clearly unconcerned with outlining each painstaking detail of the actual synthesis process without elucidating on the actual reasoning behind changes.

 _There seems to be a dual emphasis on increasing stimulatory potency and solubility – two things that fight directly against one another._ He mused, before frowning at a line that seemed out of place within the reams of step-by-step instruction tailored towards an enactor with only rudimentary scientific experience, this section concerning administering the newly produced drugs.

" _Proceeding the injection of peak dosage, urge the patient to open the Third and Fourth Eyes and stare beyond. Expiration of the patient is predicted at a currently 100% rate during this juncture with all previous subjects saying nothing before spasms begin. If survival occurs, report all information to the Crimson Twins."_

"I've just read something- "

Julion cut him off with a sharp wave, listening intently to what could only be the vox channel to Interrogator Udanya, his eyes narrowing.

"The Interrogator's group cornered a high ranking member of the gang near the pinnacle of the tower but were unsuccessful in restraining the target before they injected a lethal dose of Red EX," his master told him, "They also extracted a few files, written documents concerning shipments of material to and from the undercity with the upper hive – one of which was dated yesterday. What was it that you were going to say?"

Aurelius read out the concerning passage to the Inquisitor, whose face twisted into consternation as he mused, "Intriguing. We will analyse this further once we have reached safety, though it seems our investigation into the upper hive is now of upmost priority. For now, we need to regroup with the others and exit."

The Pariah nodded dutifully, shelving the issue of the strange, most likely heretical instructions and the implications it had for these batches of experimental Red EX as well as the overarching nature of the psychoactive in lieu of focussing on their current situation.

"So, Interrogator – do we deploy the remaining melta charges here or not?" Julion questioned, gazing thoughtfully at the power generators thrumming gently in the corners of the room. The question caught the boy off guard for a moment, having ran under the assumption that they would without considering the finer implications.

"These reactors – is it far fetched to presume that they power both this laboratory and the production of standard Red EX above?" he asked, resolving to make his decision quickly so that they would reacquaint themselves with the remaining members of the retinue in as little time as possible.

Julion merely shrugged, a casual gesture morphed into something far more formal by the Inquisitor's sharp movements, "I'd say that is a logical supposition. But I'm no expert on the energy required for mass production of the drug."

 _Either we save the charges for later use and leave the fortress undamaged or cripple their chemical endeavours but cause large amounts of disruption. If the Enslavers have been moved from here to somewhere else in Hive Enchellus proper it is likely that the Red Eyes aside from their drug might not be relevant much longer – and whoever wrote the method would be able to replicate it themselves._

 _But then again I doubt we'll be here again._

"We should use some charges, enough to destroy the reactors but cause no more destruction than that," Aurelius began the statement nervously, almost as if he was asking Julion for permission, but injected steel into his voice as he finished it – not that any of this would be audible to anyone but himself and maybe his master, blank as his tone was to those unused to the small flickers of emotion within.

Julion merely nodded, motioning to Florencia to prosecute the seventeen year old's suggestion and otherwise giving no indication as to whether or not he approved of Aurelius's plan. _I suppose the fact that he's enacting it means it was acceptable?_ The timer was set for forty-five minutes, long enough for them to be decently far away from the stronghold when the detonation occurred.

They departed, tensely ascending the metal staircase back to the ground floor. No retaliation for their intrusion met them on the way back up, their progress almost identical to their descent – until the Inquisitor suddenly spoke.

"We'll assist you as soon as possible," he turned to his two acolytes before continuing, "Udanya's group has met medium resistance."

They ran back the rest of the way, not a blind sprint as they were still wary of attracting unwanted attention from any who might be traversing the floors they passed through but with nowhere near as much care as they had been applying.

"What is the situation?" Julion demanded as he jogged up the final set of stairs, the intensity of his words unsubdued by the exertion and the man's breathing only slightly elevated. As Florencia was the same, Aurelius felt somewhat embarrassed by the fact that he was taking heavy breaths – he was adept as short bursts of exercise, but obviously needed to commit more time towards endurance training.

"Understood. We've reached the ground floor and will approach from the right flank. The Emperor protects," Julion shifted his bolt pistol to his left hand, unsheathing a gleaming sabre from a scabbard at his belt and pressing an ornate button on its handle.

The power field of the short-sword shimmered into deadly life, hissing as it cut through the air whilst its wielder ran. It wasn't often the Inquisitor resorted to personally employing melee weaponry, despite the multiple armaments within his reliquary upon the _Persephone_ , preferring to dispatch his enemies from range instead of deliver judgement up close.

This particular power weapon, a gift from the Archmagos of Mechanicum forge world Lateu, was one of the more practical arms Julion had in his possession, and Aurelius had often seen him use it in situations where the more esoteric or blatant weapons would be unsuitable.

The boy drew his own elegant combat knife – nowhere near as effective as the power weapon that could slice through even the plate of the Adeptus Astartes with contemptuous ease, but it got the job done and had been at his side for years.

The sounds of gunfire blended with screams of both rage and agony as they closed in on the former reception hall. The prospect of violence never failed to put Aurelius on edge, even if that was kept internal and numbed by years of experiencing it.

It had unnerved him, all those years ago, after his Pariah activation. Battle was something he couldn't control, couldn't dominate through application of iron willpower or intelligent deductions, too many unpredictable variables and too much emotion.

Or so he had thought. Recently, Aurelius had begun to convince himself that everything could be broken down into smaller constants, that every piece of information he could capture could be vital for success – that by mapping the characters of his opponents, every action he performed could stimulate the reaction he wished.

He knew, practically, that such wasn't truly the case, that unless he underwent heavy cybernetic modifications that would most likely be impossible with his Pariah physiology he would never be able to make completely accurate predictions of the flow of combat. But it helped him feel more comfortable within it, more adept at slaying his foes, so it was how he would continue.

The battle that they were verging on the cusp of had already claimed the lives of several Red Eyes, their bodies strewn across the floor like discarded marionettes. There were about four or so clustered in the limited cover of each of two pillars extending to the ceiling, with the other members of Julion's retinue located in the entrance of a corridor leading further into the structure.

Udanya was clutching her arm, probably injured, though from the way her face was filled with more anger than pain it most likely wasn't serious.

It seemed that the confrontation had reached an impasse – neither side could advance into the sparse, open foyer without provoking an onslaught of fire from the group still in cover, yet both were out of sight of the other and couldn't attack.

The situation was in the gang's favour – the longer they held off, the more likely reinforcements would arrive from elsewhere in their headquarters. It was evident that they had not expected the reinforcements to be allied to those they had pinned down.

"For the Emperor!" Florencia's altered voice screamed as the Sister charged into the open, laying down a hail of bolts at the approximate position of the gangers. Not many of the mass reactive rounds hit their targets, but that was expected. Flushing the Red Eyes into the open was the woman's intended goal as they quickly turned towards the new member of the combat and skidded out of her way, firing as they did so.

Aurelius and Julion sprinted in her wake, the former splitting off to the left (closer to the main entrance) and cranking down the restraints on his Null aura. Darkness swirled around him, barely visible in the already dim lighting but unmistakably there, a pulse of terror following in its wake as he engaged three gangers split off from the others in Florencia's storming assault.

His hellpistol spat death at one Red Eye who halted in his repositioning the moment bleak emptiness had enveloped him, a yelp of horror at the encroaching void intermixed with shrieks of pain as the high-intensity lasbolts blew out his chest.

Another woman fled, dropping her shotgun and wailing like a child before her cries were cut short by a well placed shot Aurelius couldn't identify the firer of.

The third, his eyes filled with a crimson mist and red-flecked saliva dripping from his chin, howled so loudly that the Interrogator was sure he would be damaging his throat. Faster than Aurelius had expected, he hurtled at the source of his pain, gun already abandoned.

"Waa-!" the boy yelped as the heavy weight of the Red Eye crashed into him, four hastily fired streaks of burning orange piercing his abdomen but doing nothing to slow the man's momentum. He jabbed forwards with the combat knife, lower body pinned beneath the much larger man on top of him as his assailant reached towards him with large hands.

It met the resistance of flesh, and Aurelius drove it deeper, instinctively blocking his face with his other arm. The blade scraped along bone and stuck, warm blood pouring onto the boy's gloved hands as he thrust his body back and squirmed wildly with his trapped legs.

The ganger screamed, one punch blocked by a jab of Aurelius's elbow before the offending arm was removed and pinned painfully above the boy's head, a big hand grasping his wrist so hard he thought it might break. He let go of the knife where it remained lodged in the man's chest, driving slender fingers into the brute's eyes before reaching back and grabbing his hellpistol from his trapped hand.

He shrieked, clutching at his face but not recoiling as much as Aurelius had hoped. Bloody phlegm spat onto the blonde's eyes and face in the psycho's howls, blurring his vision as the enraged ganger wrapped a hand around his face and twisted his head to the side, shoving it hard into the rockcrete floor and digging his nails in.

Aurelius yelped at the pain, swiping at the man's wrist with butt of his pistol in a precise series of blows that managed to dislodge his grip enough for him to wrench his head free, the hand of his enemy slamming to the ground beside it. He pressed the gun into the man's chest, firing off the last shot – forgetting that he had already released the rest of the clip's charge into the manic ganger.

 _What the hell? Why is he not dead yet?_

"Die … you … _freak_ ," Aurelius barely heard the slurred words over his pounding heartbeat as a huge hand clenched round his throat. Before the Red Eye could properly apply any sort of pressure or Aurelius could react to defend himself, a metal pincer shot around his head, crushing it to a bloody pulp that rained vital fluids and shards of bone down on the boy.

That same augmetic claw, with effortless ease, tossed the headless psychopath aside in a whirling spray of red as his body twirled through the air. A second mechadendrite snaked down and clamped round Aurelius's thin shoulder, roughly hauling him to his feet with a painful grip that was certain to bruise.

"Ow," he muttered, rubbing his shoulder with one hand whilst wiping the blood from his eyes with the other. _The drugged Red Eyes are certainly resilient._ It wasn't the first time he'd seen unthinking violence as an initial reaction to being exposed to his Pariah influence – but it was the first time he'd been exposed to it with so much ferocity.

"My calculations predict that you'll live," Maratha replied sardonically, nudging him in the direction of the corpse with the mechanical claw – an unspoken reminder to retrieve his knife. In all honesty, Aurelius had forgotten about the weapon, still lodged in the chest of his momentary assailant. He was grateful for the prompt – it was bad enough he'd succumbed so easily to the attack, his master berating him for losing his knife would be salt in the wound.

He didn't bother to verbally thank Maratha for saving his life. He'd done the same for her multiple times in the seven years they had worked together, and she'd known him since he was a ten year old boy, still relatively innocent despite the void reigning where his soul should have.

Like all of those who still remained from the group Aurelius had been inducted into all those years ago, Maratha knew him better than most and acted almost as a mentor to him through the violence of the past. A nod of gratitude would suffice.

The other Red Eyes were all dead, Florencia's armour and chainsword bathed in crimson as she strode past him, favouring her left leg. He could feel eyes on him as he ripped his blade from the Red Eye, but shook off the sudden shame that pulsated through his slender form. _It could have happened to anyone. It wasn't my fault my Null field drove him into a frenzy that made him apparently immune to six high power lasbolts and a knife to the lungs._

"Are we clear to continue?" the Inquisitor's stern voice cut into his thoughts, and Aurelius whirled back to gaze at him, perhaps too fast to be respectful.

He had perceived criticism in the man's tone, disgust at the boy and his failure to protect himself, but all he saw in those granite eyes was the usual iron focus on the task at hand – no concern, yet no censure either. Julion was simply asking whether or not his Interrogator was ready for them to depart, still deferring some command over their course to the teenager.

Belatedly, he realised his Animus crystal, shining with empty blackness, was still allowing his Pariah aura to leak into the atmosphere around him at a significant extent – most likely the source of his sudden emotion. He locked it down, before nodding and adding on a short, "Yes sir."

He followed as they snuck back out of the palace, shuddering internally when his touch-starved body reminded him of the vulnerable position he had been in with another person restraining him, trying to kill him but nonetheless still touching him.

 _Get yourself under control. You did all you could in fighting the drugged up underhive scum._ Aurelius took a deep breath, erasing both the irritated and hypersensitive, adrenalized mindset and the sensation of the ganger on top of him. It was the second time someone had pinned him to the ground in as many days, though for markedly different reasons. Thinking of Samias for some reason made the imprint of the Red Eye's hands on him fade into the background, but he soon bade both unwanted feelings to go elsewhere.

It was undoubtedly worse for whoever had the misfortune of coming into contact with him – the only reason he reacted such a way in the first place was a direct result of the inability of others to touch him and being heavily unaccustomed to it, not because of any actual reaction he suffered.

 _That's_ enough. _Think of something else … Perhaps I should devote more time to hand to hand combat, though I wasn't quite expecting such an assault. At any rate, whilst our operation wasn't a complete success we have vital information and new leads to pursue._

.*.*.*.

Samias and his fellow Chrome Fangs laid down a withering haze of irregularly spaced fire at the Red Eyes the moment they entered the dead end street, a barrage of many types of ammunition crashing into the onrushing tide of drug-addled gangers.

The Red Eyes shot back, filling the night air with bullets and streaks of lasfire that cut into the intruders. The Chrome Fangs in the open were only afforded the cover of irregular debris, and Sam ducked behind a piece of grey, nondescript rubble as the retaliatory storm whizzed overhead. He reloaded his pistols, grimacing as he saw Vexe – exposed by the weak wall she was hid behind crumbling to dust under the weight of the firepower – downed by a shot to the back.

She wasn't the only one: another group of Fangs Samias couldn't identify from this distance had to abandon their cover when a crudely constructed grenade landed amongst them, spraying shrapnel and rinsing them into vulnerability. Bullets rained down upon the panicking group, riddling barely-armoured flesh with bloody holes.

Acting purely on instinct, he rushed back to them, grabbing the closest to him by the back of his shirt and yanking him back, narrowly avoiding the sprays of myriad projectiles impacting into the ruined road as he ran. He shoved the man into where Michael, Valeria and Jamie stared dumbfounded at him behind their own collapsed pillar.

Samias didn't have time to check whether or not his fellow Fang was alright and identify him or dash towards the other wounded women and men before the frontline of the Red Eyes were upon them.

The gangers, their berserk gazes lit with sinister claret, wielded naught but an assortment of barbed, vicious melee weapons. Many had been shredded by gunfire, flesh falling from their emaciated underhive forms, yet still they charged as if their minds were incapable of accepting that they should be dead.

Samias put a bullet through the brain of one that cackled something incoherent at him, allowing himself a small smile at the accuracy of the pistol shot, unsure whether he should be discarding the cover in order to fire a fresh fusillade into the range-bereft intoxicated or if that was just a ruse to get the Fangs out into the open as he ducked back behind the rock with his closest friends.

His heart pounding so loud it almost drowned out the gunfire and screaming, threatening to tear his ribcage open in its frenzy, the teenager found it hard to think clearly. He'd never been in something like this before, not even District Elestra's firefight that had dragged the entire gang into this spiralling mess of a situation was comparable to the intensity of this confrontation.

 _Come on, come on! You know what you have to do – protect your friends! Don't worry about yourself, stop worrying about yourself … they'll do the same for you-_

"Grenade!" Valeria screamed, pulling Michael with her as she sprinted out of the cover, Jamie following quickly behind. Samias blinked, stunned for a moment, and Val shoved Michael forwards before turning to drag the taller teen as his instincts kicked in.

The explosive went off with a muffled _bang_ , shards of metal raining into the air and down into the panicking gangers. Samias threw himself to the floor, yelping as one cut into his side – his own voice barely audible over the ringing in his ears.

He pressed a hand to the wound, wincing at the stinging pain but counting himself lucky it had merely cut him open instead of being embedded. Next to him, Valeria screamed and growled, sound slowly returning as the boy rolled over to his front. She ripped a long sliver of metal dripping with blood from her left forearm, hurling it to the ground with equal parts fury and hurt.

Sam gazed over at the place where the shrapnel bomb had landed, revulsion swirling in his stomach as he beheld the ruin it had left in its wake. He and the others had been spared from the worst of it by the unconscious ganger he had dragged over, the grenade landing at his side.

The metal had eviscerated the man, shredding and embedding within his skin and nearly carving his torso from his waist – only the thin ruin of his spine still kept the two halves connected. The unwilling martyr had been blown closer to them by the force of the blast, and Samias could see blood-drenched bone peaking out from the minced cadaver of his face still contorting in pain.

 _Fucking hell … he's still alive …_

The eighteen year old had to put a hand to his mouth to stop vomit spilling over as the Chrome Fang reached out the bloody stump of an arm towards him, horrible groans eked out from shrapnel-punctured lungs somehow making their way over the din of battle to Samias.

He felt frozen in place, utterly disgusted and yet consumed by the violent wreck left of the man he had only tried to help, before that paralysing fear was replaced by boiling anger. He didn't know who it was that had been left this way – and now never could – but that didn't matter. No onedeserved a fate like this. _No one_.

Except the Red Eyes.

Samias flicked his eyes towards the front line embroiled in brutal melee with the Chrome Fangs, more Red Eyes hurtling into the chaos like excited mutts eager for a hunt, sighting a target. He was grateful for his strong, too-tight grip on his pistols, one the single-shot pistol that had belonged to his mother before him and the other an old autopistol the Fangs had had in their stockpile a while.

"Red … red ... red sings!" a woman with a cascade of spiky scarlet hair ran towards him, howling out the words between shuddering gasps whilst brandishing a spiked bat wildly. Samias shot her in the leg, blowing out her right kneecap and causing her to cartwheel over from her suddenly unbalanced momentum.

He then fired a spray of bullets into her back as she fell, rage bubbling within him as she screamed almost gleefully and tried to push herself to her feet, the pain unregistered by an abused nervous system.

"Die, just fucking _die_ , you bastard!" he spat, the ganger finally collapsing in a pool of her own blood.

"Watch out!" Samias turned to see another intoxicated Red Eye shot down by a hail of bullets originating from Michael, the smaller boy coming to his side and reloading his autorifle, gazing warily at more of the charging gangers.

"Thanks, Mikey," Sam murmured, though the silver haired youth most likely didn't hear him over the din of battle. The chaos of the melee made it hard to ascertain exactly what was going on, though Samias wasted no time in targeting two approaching Red Eyes.

"Blood! I want your blood!" one of them screamed in tandem a warbled, mechanical grating noise emanating from the crude cybernetic rebreather of the other in a pitiful imitation of human speech. Samias backstepped from a blade thrust at him, firing his pistols carefully in spite of his anger – too worried about hitting Mikey and the other Red Eye squaring off against one another. The serrated sword slashed through the air in front of him, a second stroke that he dodged.

Heedless of the danger, Sam tackled the ganger as he was carried forwards by the momentum of the slice. He knocked the smaller man to the ground and released a point-blank shot from each of his pistols into the Red Eye's head, blood exploding out from two gaping wounds. It seemed that shooting the Red EX infused warriors in the head was the only sure-fire way of killing them quickly.

The teen scrambled to his feet, juddering forwards out of instinct when he saw something approaching out of the corner of his eye. He tripped and fell onto the corpse of the man he had killed mere seconds ago, rolling to the side as a spike-tipped mace crashed into the body.

Streaks of vitae fountained from the impact, covering Samias's lower half in its sticky crimson. The mace hurtled towards him again, a sideways arc of death traced through the air this time, its wielder a huge woman with a mechanical arm that looked like it had originated from heavy duty factory machinery.

He tried to roll again, but the tail-end of the scrap mace caught him in the arm as it passed. It smashed Samias across the hard ground, the boy howling as he tumbled and dropping his autopistol. The boy fired at the Red Eye as she closed, a few of the shots missing but most finding their mark in her chest, but it seemed not to affect her.

She raised the mace for another strike before her chest blew out, another spray of simultaneous rounds sealing the deal and causing her to pitch forwards. Samias shoved himself to his feet, nodding his thanks to Seleste as she loaded more ammo into her smoking shotgun.

A stray bullet whizzed past Samias, narrowly missing his head before carving into Seleste's as she twisted in an instinctive flinch. It tore into her ear before continuing on its path, ripping through the flesh and carving half of the organ clean off. The woman screamed, dropping her bullets and cradling her head as blood cascaded from the wound.

Samias was at her side in a heartbeat, grimacing at the steaming ruin of the vox bead fusing with the remnants of Seleste's ear. She shove away his outstretched hands, pointing frantically and yelling, "Mikey! Go help Mikey!"

The eighteen year old barely felt he could deny the command inherent in the senior Chrome Fang's tone even if he had wanted to, and span around to where his best friend was battling desperately against the Red Eye with the shrieking cybernetic voice box.

He sprinted over, Michael's skinny form and the man rolling over one another as they wrestled on the ground – the ganger's back pockmarked with bullet holes giving Samias some impression of what had happened.

The man clawed at Mikey's face and throat, long nails tearing into the skin and drawing blood as the boy cried in pain.

"Get off me! Get off me!" he half sobbed, half hissed as he shoved desperately into his assailant, failing to release himself as the man gripped his head with both hands and began to press thumbs into his eyes.

Samias holstered his pistol in a swift motion (it being impossible to shoot the ganger without hitting his friend) and wrenched the Red Eye off of his friend, wrapping a muscular arm around his neck and bringing round the other to secure the choke-hold.

Snarling in his unnatural voice, the ganger managed to shoved Sam's constricting arm above his chin and bit into the flesh, sinking sharpened teeth deep into the boy's forearm. He yelped in pain and shoved the other away, only for Michael to smash the butt of his autorifle into the man's face as he tried to recover and stumble to his feet.

It didn't keep him down for long, so a second swipe crunched into his face, breaking his nose and bouncing his head off of the ground. Michael swung again, thin streams of blood leaking from the wounds inflicted upon him contorting with his face in a snarl of rage. Samias almost felt the impact of the metal rifle into the vulnerable flesh of the man's face the fourth time it hit, bone shattering beneath the blows as Mikey wielded his gun like a bludgeon.

"Get off get off _get off_!" he howled, smashing the autorifle into the ganger again with all of his strength. This time, there was no resounding metallic screech in response, nor did the Red Eye attempt to stand again. Michael kept swinging and crying, a flurry of frenzied blows reducing the man's face to a barely-recognisable pulp.

"Mikey, stop! He's dead! Mikey!" Samias yelled, grabbing onto the boy's shoulder as he ignored the words, jerking him away from the dead man and catching the panicked arc Michael lashed in his direction. The butt of the gun smacked into his hand hard, but the eighteen year old ignored the pain as she shoved the blood-drenched weapon back into Mikey's shaking hands as the smaller male whimpered, "Shit, Samias, I'm s-sorry…"

"Come on, pull yourself together!" he snarled, gripping the boy's shoulders hard and shaking him for a short moment before turning away and pulling out his own gun again. Much as he wanted to comfort Mikey, pull him into a brotherly hug and gently tease him until he'd recovered and his eyes were no longer streaming with frightened tears, there wasn't the time – so harshness had to suffice. At least until the Inquisitor was done with his work and Aurelius gave the signal to get out of this wretched place.

Streaks of sizzling orange cut themselves into the boy's retinas as he stared out across the brutal conflict, accompanied shortly by several short wails of agony. He saw a Red Eye swapping magazines on a type of lasrifle Samias hadn't seen before a decent distance away and aimed at them down the sights of his pistol.

The enemy took notice, ducking behind a ridge in the street before Samias could fire. A hand brushed his shoulder, Valeria slipping past him and priming a laspistol that didn't belong to her as she instructed, "I'll take care of that one. You deal with him."

Samias gazed at where she motioned, a Red Eye stalking towards them in the cover of the ruined buildings populating the sides of the avenue, two long machetes twinkling malevolently in the perpetual ruby radiance cast by the central stronghold tower.

The boy aimed and fired, his opponent breaking into a ducking sprint and spinning his blades. He'd misjudged the angle in the darkness, the bullet impacting into crumbling masonry behind the ganger. Samias shot again, sharply feeling the loss of his autopistol which could rain death (or minor inconvenience in the case of these Red Eyes) at a significantly faster rate.

It hit the man in the arm, but didn't even cause him to drop his knife as he ran at Samias. The boy shouted a warning as a Chrome Fang suddenly appeared in his field of vision, his next shot fired at a wide angle as he pulled the gun away.

The Red Eye snarled, leaping at the obstructing ganger (who herself was diving away from another foe) and ramming his blades into her throat. Choking on her blood and the metal stabbed into her neck, the woman – _Menerva_ – died quickly, dropping her own improvised scrap-metal sword.

Sam's opponent – a tall, wiry man with a shock of badly dyed red hair and metal goggles - wrenched his machetes free, before kicking the Fang's weapon towards the eighteen year old. _A challenge, huh?_

The boy scraped up the sword, heavy but suited for his strong frame, and fired his last few rounds into the Red Eye that had been fighting Menerva, leaving just him and his opponent in the immediate area.

"You wanna fucking go, you bastard?" he taunted at the knife-wielder, blood rushing in his skull. He knew this was stupid, foolish posturing, but it got the man's attention away from any of the other Fangs – especially Val trying to snipe the lasrifle equipped thug and Jamie and Michael taking on a pair of cackling maniacs.

A fusillade of lasbolts interspersed between the two as they circled one another, sizzling orange that lit up their blades. A crimson mist accumulated around the Red Eye's mouth with every exhalation, staining the air with the sinister chemicals of the Red EX. It was a sight all too familiar to Samias, evidence of a high dosage of the drug.

His opponent acted first, Sam all too happy to drag out the confrontation even if he longed to get to grips with the ganger. Samias parried one parabolic overhead knife blow, jumping back as the second stabbed in from below. He'd seen through the man's ruse – the first strike had been exaggerated, obviously a feint intended to cause him to overextend his guard – but in turn the Red Eye didn't take his bait in coming closer and overreach himself.

Samias struck next, snarling as he slashed his sword in a wide arc. The greater reach of his weapon meant that if he could keep his foe at bay he'd probably emerge victorious, whereas the lighter dual knives of the maniac would be deadly up close.

The Red Eye twirled backwards, an almost elegant movement ruined by his intoxicated jittering, grinning maliciously at Samias and flicking his knives.

"I'm gonna enjoy cutting you up. After you, I think I'll slice up your little girlfriend next," the man ran his tongue over mostly broken teeth as if savouring the thought. Samias wasn't an idiot. He often let his emotions dictate his path but at the same time allowed his honed instincts to take over and get him out of sticky situations. Those same instincts were telling him that it was a very clear lure designed to provoke him into action.

 _Don't reply. You're better than he is._

In spite of the rational thoughts, Samias found himself growling a retort, "It'll be hard to do that when you're dead."

The man suddenly moved in what looked like a spasm, juddering forwards as if to attack before hurling one of his knives. Startled, the eighteen year old swung his sword in an automatic response, having begun reacting as if towards a melee attack.

The blade hit him in his weapon holding arm, ramming into the flesh and sending agonising fire through the boy's whole body. Before he could even finish a scream, the Red Eye had leapt at him.

Samias couldn't hear anything above the blood pounding in his head and the blood-curdling screech of his opponent, swinging his sword wildly and shutting his eyes in sudden fear.

He expected pain, slices of agony that would herald the man's remaining dagger hacking into him. Wet splashes of warmth on his face were all he felt instead, and the shuddering, sagging weight of a body on his lower half.

The boy tentatively opened his eyes, reflexively closing them out of panic when they were stung with overwhelming red. He reached the hand not clenched around the handle of his blade, tilting his head back and wiping his eyes before presenting them to the world once again.

The blade of his sword was rammed through the man's head, extending up from below the chin and piercing out through the other side. Having dropped the machete, the Red Eye's hands were cut up from trying to somehow remove the impaling metal, blood cascading down the blade and onto Samias. The warmth of it made him want to gag.

He took a stuttering, horrified breath, trying not to let himself comprehend how close he'd come to dying, before heaving the body off of him and ripping Menerva's sword free. A sharp sting from his wounded arm had him hissing and panting for breath, throbbing all the way from the wound to his shoulder.

Samias grasped it gently with his left hand, biting his tongue at the intensity of the agony. The thrown knife was still embedded there, not completely submerged in flesh (as it would have pierced through to the other side of his forearm) but not surface level either.

"Ah … ahhh," he breathed, trying to push back the tears gathering at the edges of his vision. Now that the adrenaline of the fight had begun to dissipate the pain quickly rose to replace it. He'd already been cut up in this battle by shrapnel, and his injuries from the District Electra confrontation still pulsated with a mildly uncomfortable note as if craving attention now that something else had appeared to vie for it, but this was significantly worse.

He didn't want to touch the blade – moving it only caused him more pain – but even over the agony he was acutely aware of the violence still raging around him. It wouldn't be long until he was attacked by an opportunistic Red Eye looking for an easy target.

Wrapping his hand around the handle, Samias screamed as he pulled the knife free, blood fountaining from the deep laceration before he shoved already slick fingers around the wound to try and stem the flow.

A presence quickly knelt down beside him, causing him to flinch and reach for his sword before he identified who it was. Jamie tore a piece of his shirt off (the clothes already abused in such a manner to aid his own arm after the chain entanglement from earlier), gently shoving Samias's hand away before wrapping it round. The younger cursed with a mutter, prompting the other to chuckle quietly

"Yeah, I have no sympathy whatsoever. Apply pressure on that. It should help," Jamie told him softly with a fond smile, before hooking his arm underneath Samias's armpit and helping him to his feet.

The eighteen year old didn't need the assistance but appreciated it all the same; closeness to one of his friends in a dire time was never amiss despite the fact that they were still in a battle. The blonde let him go before guiding him to some cover, firing a couple of shots over in the general direction of the Red Eyes that Sam couldn't discern the accuracy of.

Samias's words of thanks died on his lips as the largest Red Eye – largest person in fact – he had ever seen strode out into the street in front of them. He towered over the boys, both of which were quite a bit taller than average, almost reaching eight feet and bristling with muscle. He must have been a mutant; no ordinary man could reach such a height without horribly distended proportions.

Scar tissue covered his face, a haemorrhage of wounds that had been poorly repaired with basic grafts of new flesh leaving eyes tainted crimson gazing bloodthirstily into the Chrome Fangs. A sudden twist in his gut told Sam with utter certainty that this giant of a man was the same Goresc who had announced himself at the onset of this renewed onslaught.

"Let's see what we have here," he sneered in a deep, gurgling tone, the air around him seething with malice. Both Jamie and Samias fired at him, but a wave of visceral, crackling red energy rose up to intercept and repel the attack, contorting and writhing as it absorbed the bullets like it was pained by existing in this realm.

"What the fuck …" Jamie blinked, disbelieving what he had just borne witness to.

With widened eyes, the boy pulled out his last clip for his pistol, taking an instinctive step back from the Marshal before grabbing onto Jamie's stunned arm and freeing him from his stupor as he broke into a run.

He was no stranger to the existence of psykers, but hadn't ever seen one in person before. By all accounts he had heard and through his own imagination, he had thought of them as frail, ethereal beings who wielded a dangerous power no one truly understood, the strength of their mutant minds compounded by a weakness of flesh. Goresc seemed to fly in the face of all that.

"Oh I don't think so," the man rumbled, reaching out his free hand as a tendril of hissing, electric-esque warpstuff extended outwards and ensnared the fleeing Jamie. Samias turned to snatch onto the older male's hand as he shot backwards, but the blonde slid out of his blood slick grip with a panicked yelp.

Samias watched with muted horror as Goresc raised the struggling Jamie so that their faces were level, horrible choked whimpers escaping the terrified youngster as the brute squeezed the life from him.

 _There's nothing I can do,_ a small, pathetic part of his mind told him, whispering that he should just run, before Samias snapped into action. He fired off a spray of bullets aimed squarely at the Marshall's head, the snaking wire of crimson lashing up and expanding to block the projectiles.

" _Please … please_ …" Jamie's frightened gasps should have been too quiet to hear over the violence around them, yet to Samias they were the loudest thing in the world. He brandished Menerva's sword two handed as he charged at the Red Eye leader, mind utterly consumed by the unrelenting desire to protect his friend overriding any concerns he might have had for himself.

The boy leapt to the side as Goresc took aim with an oversized autogun held in a single hand, huge muzzle spitting death as larger shells than those loaded by normal autorifles and pistols ripped into the earth at his feet.

Crackling energy suddenly reared up in front of Samias, whose startled attempt at a block did nothing to prevent it smashing him backwards and sending him tumbling. It was an unnatural perversion of physical laws that something so clearly consisting of light could impact into the boy with so much force.

Coughing and winded as he skidded to a halt next to a ruined wall, a frenzied drumbeat crashing around his skull, Samias's vision blurred, the image of Goresc holding Jamie by the throat splitting into two equally nightmarish distortions.

"Pathetic and weak, like all of you Chrome Fangs," the Marshal snarled, his massive hand tightening as Jamie kicked his legs wildly, clawing desperately at a huge arm. Samias reached out a hand, as if he could pull the other male from danger, deliver his salvation with this meaningless gesture alone.

Jamie's hazel eyes met his for a moment, the boy's terrified gaze begging Samias to help him.

A horrible, cracking noise broke into Samias's mind, Jamie's struggles immediately ceasing as the older teen's body hung limp in Goresc's grip. The Red Eye dropped him, the boy's form loosely dropping to the floor, a puppet with strings cut.

 _No … no … no no no no nononononono …_

Samias was barely aware that he was screaming his throat out until Goresc fixed him with a threatening glare, claret power pooling around him and infecting the atmosphere with a violent, sick energy.

Hate and rage became the only thoughts in Samias's head, crowding out everything else with their intensity. He rose to his feet, hurling himself at the man again before the manifestation of his twisted abilities slammed into him once more, appearing too fast for him to dodge it.

Goresc advanced as the bloody tendril wrapped around the boy's chest, constricting it tight in tandem with the clenching of the man's unoccupied fist. Samias pushed against it with all of his might, growling and snarling like a trapped animal. _Ah … can't breathe … doesn't matter … have to kill … must avenge …_

The weight around his upper body suddenly vanished as multiple bright beams speared past his eyes, psychic force nullifying the attempted attack on the towering Marshal as it spread like a visceral puddle around him.

Valeria's face appeared in front of Sam's own as he hauled himself to his feet and shoving him into the building, instinctively shaking away her offered aid and gripping his sword tight. It took him a moment to register that the girl was shouting something at him, all of his attention so focussed upon Goresc as the goliath shielded himself from a barrage of shots by Mikey and his cousin.

"Come on Samias, we need to move, now!" she shouted, voice seemingly incredibly distant.

He made to shove past her, to launch himself at the murdering bastard again and again until either one of them met the same fate as Jamie, but her strong hands on his shoulders only just held him at bay.

Belatedly, he saw that the girl's face was streaked with tears, suddenly realising that his own was as well as she almost gently cupped his cheeks, "We'll fight him – together. But you're just throwing your life away going at him on your own."

Her words were meant to be encouraging, but she belted them out quickly with a tone full of steel. Samias nodded numbly. What Val was saying was right, logical – he couldn't avenge Jamie on his own, not against the Marshal's dominating powers. Nor could he protect the friends he still had left if he thrust himself into absurd danger.

 _Not that I_ can _protect them anyway,_ he thought bitterly, Jamie's frightened but trusting eyes spearing into his own once again. He knew, rationally, that he couldn't have defeated Goresc. But at the same time, he had deserved to die, not Jamie, who had only been with him to help Samias in the first place.

 _Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!_

Samias banished the maddening thoughts from his mind. _I'll kill Goresc. I_ will _end his horrible life. That doesn't mean I have to die as well._

"Where is your chieftain?" the Marshal howled as Samias and Valeria stalked through the interior of the building. There almost seemed to be a lull in the violence, the ranks of this wave of Red Eyes thinned enough so that there wasn't constant fighting and any Chrome Fangs in the vicinity of Goresc having temporarily halted firing at him.

Even in their state of Red EX induced psychosis, it seemed that most of the enemy gang had the presence of mind to slink off into cover, aware that their Marshal drawing the ire of the Chrome Fangs would spell a quick death for any of them should they show themselves in his vicinity. Doubtlessly they would surge into the open once the Fangs committed to an attack themselves.

"I'm right here, you monster," the Chief declared, stepping proudly out of cover and presenting himself to the gargantuan Red Eye. Samias gaped in disbelief, having expected the man to do the reasonable thing and remain hidden instead of presenting himself openly to Goresc. The old man had no chance against the psychic murderer.

He knew what Garulf was doing, of course. The sinking pit opening up at the bottom of his stomach told him as much. The Chief was buying for time, willing to give his own life so that his gang could come up with a strategy for defeating Goresc – or fleeing from him.

"Seriously? An augmetic cripple? I anticipated someone who might pose a challenge," the Marshal ground out, his words dripping with cruel intent. "But then, I don't I'd even heard of the Chrome Fangs before tonight."

"Guys?" a whispered voice broke into the two's silence. Samias snapped his head towards the noise, lowering his sword when a frightening looking Mikey stared up at him. He had no idea how the silver haired boy had managed to sneak up on both him and Valeria, but then again he at least had been transfixed upon the confrontation between the leaders of each gang.

"What?" Val hissed, grabbing onto Michael's shoulder and dragging him out of sight. The boy's face was ashen aside from where viscera had coated it a sticky red, the bloodied autorifle trembling in his hands. Nervously, he began: "I think – I think I know how we kill him."

"You won't be forgetting our name past tonight. That's assuming you even survive it," Garulf replied, his voice remarkably calm in the situation. Goresc made a wet, gurgling sound, and it took a moment for Sam to process that it was an amused chuckle.

"How?" Samias didn't care that he had gripped the smaller male's arm tight and shook him harder than necessary. They didn't have the luxury of wasting time because of Mikey's lack of self-confidence.

"His shield – he can't use it at the same time as he attacks. He had to pull it back to protect himself from Val when he had trapped you," Michael exposited in a flood of words, "If we can somehow fuck up his gun or make him run out of ammo, he shouldn't be able to use that shitty red tentacle to stop Sam from getting close to him with that if we're shooting. He can't protect himself up close, otherwise why would be bother constantly forcing you away from him?"

He motioned emphatically towards the blood-drenched blade held in Samias's right hand. He took a short moment to consider the plan – he wasn't certain he could defeat the Marshal at melee range even without his psychic assaults preventing him from getting close, but it was all they had.

"I think it's all we have," Valeria murmured, pinning Samias with a concerned glance that he met with fierce determination. He could tell she wasn't happy with him being the one to engage Goresc and put himself at the most risk, especially since the other Red Eyes would be all too happy to attack him.

"It is," he spoke with a note of finality, easing the pressure of his hand on Michael when he realised he still had it squeezing hard. Belatedly, he added a few words of encouragement, "Good thinking, Mikey."

"Weak words from a weak man," Goresc snarled, all contemptuous mirth gone as he raised his palm. Samias felt sick to his stomach as a bloody tendril flashed out towards the Chief, suppressing bile at the crawling sensation the psyker induced. It was the opposite effect to Aurelius's dark nature – the boy engendered agonising clarity in reality and smothered all else in a black void, whereas the Marshal bent and twisted the physical world, infecting it with an alien sickness.

It yanked Garulf into the air, an angiogenic vessel splitting off to tear the laspistol from the Chief's human hand, bringing him closer. Samias inched towards the exit of the building, his green eyes trained on the huge man and his newest victim even as his mind began to sob once again.

The Chief snarled something, too quiet for Sam to pick out, before spitting into Goresc's scarred face. Goresc fired, chunks of flesh blown out of Garulf's thrashing body as massive shells were unloaded into him at point blank range, the old man's cries mercifully cut short by the sheer physical damage the gunshots inflicted.

Sam had known that the Chief was going to die the second he accepted the Marshal's roared challenge, but that didn't make the harsh reality of it any easier to comprehend. The boy choked back tears – Garulf was the man who had taken him in, given him a home, a _family,_ when he had nothing and no one.

The Chief's motivations weren't entirely altruistic, as recruiting more members into the Chrome Fangs was always a priority no matter what age they were, though that only furthered his goal of carving out a place of safety in the ruthless undercity. Yet Samias had always respected him, loved him, even, as one would love a nurturing uncle who wanted nothing but the best for his family.

It was one more thing that the Red Eyes had taken from him. One more strike on the tally of their transgressions.

One more thing he would make them pay for.

Samias broke from cover, Valeria and Michael launching a covering arc of fire that forced Goresc into protecting himself. A Red Eye hurled himself at the boy, screeching in pent-up psychosis that they had been forced to repress in the wake of their Marshal's arrival.

He barely even registered himself tearing the ganger apart with a brutal slash of his sword, decapitating them in a spray of blood before carrying on in his charge. Another Red Eye interspersed themselves between Samias and the colossus he was aiming for, before their body was shredded in a wave of bullets as Seleste appeared at his side, spitting expletives in rage herself.

Writing on the ground, the woman tried to stand and achieve her goal of smashing her maul into Sam before Michael's cousin finished her off with a violent kick to the head.

All around them, the street end had exploded into brutality once more, the Chrome Fangs emerging to avenge their Chief and spurred on by Samias's own mad offensive, with the Red Eyes engaging to protect their own leader.

Goresc ran through the violence as a blood hued sphere, spraying bullets into his own gangers and the Fangs they were fighting against without a hint of vacillation. Men and women of both gangs were mowed down, obliterated by the sheer power of the weapon.

"Get back here!" Samias screamed, blind to the battle raging around him as he chased Goresc through the massacre. The Marshal turned, throwing a frothing Red Eye that was in between the two out of his way, gunfire still pattering ineffectually off of his rippling shield.

"You again," he snarled, raising his huge gun. The eighteen year old suddenly came to the dread realisation of how exposed he was, icy fear flooding his veins where molten rage had been seething within moments earlier.

Before a single shot was fired from it, a pinpoint sniper bolt pierced through the tip of the weapon, severing the barrel. Goresc's psychic defences had coated his fingers out of instinct, but left the gun vulnerable.

Samias whispered a thought of thanks for Dragas's accuracy and the fact that the sniper was looking out for him, apparently catching onto his plan. He sidestepped the ruin of the autogun as it was hurled in his direction, accompanied by a roar of anger.

The Marshal leapt at him, far further than a normal human could hope to manage without significant cybernetic enhancements. The boy jumped back himself as the man's huge fists cracked the ground with their impact, stumbling in the wake of the resultant shockwave.

"You think you can fight me, little brat?" Goresc growled, sending the potent cocktail of fear and fury surging throughout Samias's head into overdrive. The towering Red Eye stalked forwards, tensing like a predatory feline preparing to finish off wounded prey.

Samias hefted his blade, its bloody edge shaking with either terror or hate. He couldn't tell which.

"Bring it on. I'll make you pay," his voice was quiet, choked by emotion. He doubted the Marshal would have heard, but that didn't make the words any less true.

Goresc swung at him, not distracted by the barrage of gunfire laying into his giant form, its intensity lessened as he neared Samias.

The boy rolled to the side, slashing up with his sword. It hit flesh, carving into the man's leg as he ran past. He span, each split-second action drawn out by his adrenaline-fuelled mind, hacking again at Goresc.

This time, the blade met resistance. Samias's eyes widened as the Marshal caught the blow in a large palm, sharp metal slicing into skin and bone as he twisted and bent. The sword broke in half, the boy's disbelief quickly quashed by another fist streaking towards him.

Samias was too late to dodge the blow that cracked into his side, knocked off of his feet by the prodigious strength of the punch. He forced himself upright, defiance streaking through him as a kick caught him in the legs, sending the youth sprawling once again.

"WEAK!" Goresc howled in frustration, jumping into a strike again. Samias raised his broken sword, knowing it wouldn't stop the Marshal but hoping to inflict as much damage as possible before the end.

It didn't have to. A form leapt into Samias from the left, shoving him away as Goresc's attack hit the spot it had intercepted. Arad barely had time to shriek in pain before his ribcage was crushed, blood cascading down his chin from crumpled lungs.

 _No … not him as well … why?_

Samias fired his pistol, knowing full well that it couldn't damage the Red Eye past his sickening powers, and let out a primal scream. Seleste's shotgun blasts accompanied this, the woman on the other side of the Marshal and aiming at his legs – trying to see how far his shield could stretch before it broke.

Another Fang leapt at him with a knife, Goresc whirling and smashing her with an extended palm. It rammed through her chest, the man spinning again and launching the dying ganger at Seleste. She was sent sprawling by the impact just as Samias hurled himself at the Marshal again. He rammed Menerva's fractured blade deep into his back, Goresc arching away with a roar as blood poured from the wound.

Samias pulled it out with a twist, stabbing it forwards again. A hand encircled his wrist, squeezing so hard that the circulation was instantly cut off and he dropped his sword, before yanking him forwards so that they were face to face.

Goresc breathed a red mist into Samias as he hissed, vicious malevolence inflecting every syllable, "I'm going to make you regret that."

Samias punched with his free arm and kicked with his legs as Goresc wrapped a hand round his throat, slamming him into the hard ground with a knee pinning his stomach. He tore the pistol away from the boy as he made to fire before resuming its tight grip on his neck.

The Marshal began to slowly tug with his hand on Samias's right arm, stretching the limb out and pulling so hard the boy though it might tear from his socket.

He screamed, tears filling his eyes and spilling relentlessly down his cheeks, scraping desperately at the man with his one free hand. The pain was immense, filling Samias with its intensity, and the boy floundered, whimpering and gasping for breath. His sword was just out of reach, tauntingly scraping the edges of his fingertips as he reached for it.

Yet even over the agony of having his arm gradually ripped from him another smaller, almost imperceptible annoyance somehow penetrated his senses. The rusted, crude Aquilla pendant he always kept in his pocket was digging into his leg at an awkward angle.

Samias didn't believe in divine providence. He didn't believe in the guiding hand of the God-Emperor lighting his path from the other side of the galaxy.

But he did believe in the sharpness of metal, no matter how corroded.

Samias pulled it out, the torture being inflicted by Goresc heightening his desperate rage, and sliced its edge across the man's red eyes.

The Marshal howled, instantly releasing the boy as he reeled back and gripped his eyes, the pressure on Samias's arm removed. Samias wrenched himself free, scrambling for his sword. He grabbed the blade as Goresc towered over him, reaching blindly towards the object of his pain.

Samias stabbed the broken blade into Goresc's throat. Choking on blood, he let out a gurgling cry, a crimson tendril lashing out and battering Samias away, but the damage had already been done.

The moment the Marshal's psychic shield was lowered in his frantic attempt to get Samias away from him, the endless rain of gunfire ripped into him. Stumbling, his body becoming a bloody pincushion of unleashed bullets and scorched by lasfire, Goresc let out a choked bellow of impotent rage, before crashing to the ground.

Even his drug-infused resilience couldn't prevent that many gunshots from taking their due.

Panting for breath and aching, Samias laid back on the hard ground, rain beginning to spill from the heavens and mingling with his tears.

"Come on, get up. We're still fighting," Seleste's voice broke into his brief reverie, the woman's hand on his shoulder as she knelt beside him. Her voice was warm, cracked with sorrow even as she tried to keep it commanding. Samias let her help him to his feet, sparing not even a glance for the ruined corpse of the Marshal, before his pistol was thrust into his hands.

"Thanks," he murmured, trying not to let fatigue from the desperate fight settle in with more Red Eyes left to kill.

The remaining Red Eyes didn't seem at all concerned by the death of their leader. In fact, they seemed emboldened by it, launching themselves at the Chrome Fangs in a renewed frenzy, though perhaps it was because they knew they were now outnumbered. Samias fought off one with Seleste, shuddering as it bit into the flesh of whoever it had killed, before the street became bereft of violence once more.

"That seems like the last of them. For now, at least," she declared. The boy's eyes roved over the remaining Chrome Fangs – there wasn't one member of the gang who wasn't injured in some way, and at least a third were dead - before he replied, "Seems like it."

"Huh? Did you say something?" Seleste turned to him, Sam sharply reminded of the ruin of her ear as she did so. She'd ripped out the wrecked vox bead, and with their Chief dead that left Samias the only one left who could contact the Inquisition.

"Samias!" Valeria yelled in his direction, before the girl skidded to a halt in front of him. Before he could respond she had already wrapped her arms around him, pressing her head to his chest in order to ensure that he was still breathing, still here.

The eighteen year old ignored her sniffles, unable to muster a smile as Mikey grinned grimly at him, gently patting the taller boy on the arm.

Samias quickly registered that they hadn't received any instructions from Aurelius in quite some time – he wasn't sure how long they'd been fighting this most recent wave for, but surely it had to be long enough for the Inquisitor's retinue to have completed their infiltration.

"Aurelius, it's Samias. How-"

His heart leapt into his throat as another voice was suddenly broadcast into the cul de sac, bombarding the beleaguered Fangs with more crackling taunts.

" _So you've killed Marshal Goresc? Truly, I must congratulate you on that. We've been trying for years,_ "high-pitched giggling drenched in insanity shrieked through the amplifiers. Samias let out a small, defeated sob, Michael falling to his knees next to him.

" _Maybe whoever killed him wants to become a member of the Red Eyes?_ " a similar, but different voice jeered, " _Of course, I'm joking. You're all going to die._ "

Silence fell once more. Samias pressed the vox bead's activation button again, "This is Samias. Aurelius, please respond. Aurelius, we need to know how long until the Arbites arrive! We can't hold out much longer."

"Maybe there's … interference?" Val questioned, emotion seeping through her words. Neither her nor Samias wanted to entertain the thought of Julion's group having failed, having held out until now for nothing.

Michael's laughter caused both to snap their heads towards the kneeling boy. It was hysterical, desperate, and he gazed up at the two with wide eyes.

"There's no point. Don't you see? They were never going to call the Arbites in the first place."

"What do you mean?" Samias growled, leaning angrily over the youth. The boy's laughter continued as he gesticulated hopelessly, "We were lied to, Samias. Think about it. Why would they compromise their investigation for an underhive gang?"

"You're – you're _wrong_ ," the taller snarled, slivers of bleak misery opening up within his mind. He refused to accept Michael's words, refused to accept that the Inquisitor's retinue – _Aurelius_ – would betray them like that.

He violently mashed down on the communication activator again, yelling desperately into the vox, "Aurelius! Please, please respond! If you're alive, please speak to me! Tell me when the Arbites are coming!"

"It's no use!" Michael suddenly shouting, rising to his feet and shoving Samias with a distraught anger, "They aren't coming! No one's coming to help us! Your precious Aurelius isn't going to say anything because they've left us here to die! Once we're gone, no one will know they're here!"

"Please, Aurelius," Samias felt warm tears splashing down his face again and wiped them violently as Val pulled Mikey away. "Please … just say something. Anything."

He paused for a moment, sniffling and stifling a miserable sob that he didn't want the other boy to hear, "It's true, isn't it? You aren't sending the Arbites to help us. We were supposed to die here. You've just left us all to die here!"

" _Samias … you're right. I'm … sorry. We aren't contacting the Arbites,_ " Aurelius's young voice crackled into the boy's ear, crushing all of his hope, " _Strask and Florencia are heading your way to provide an opportunity to secure your extraction._ "

"Two? You're just sending two people?! You promised us the whole-"

" _There's nothing more we can do. The Emperor protects._ "

With that, Samias knew the communication had been severed. Samias gazed over in muted horror at Valeria and Michael, realising with a jolt that almost all of the Chrome Fangs remaining had gathered round him.

"We need to leave. Now!" he shouted, panic breaking the attempted strength of his words. With the fresh force of Red Eyes brewing at the other side of the long avenue, he knew it would be a near impossible order.


	7. Broken Bonds

The dead and the dying began to outnumber the living before Strask and Florencia arrived to help the Chrome Fangs. Embroiled in a firefight – this newest group of Red Eyes preferring to slowly whittle down the ranks of their prey from range instead of hurling themselves into the fray – they were pinned, unable to make a proper escape back through the sewers with the enemy advancing on them.

Some could have left. A slow trickle of Fangs could have retreated back into the underground until the Red Eyes fully closed in and killed all those remaining, but none were willing to abandon the rest of them to the fate the enemy gangers would have in store for the trespassers.

Samias would have wanted Michael and Valeria to escape, but doubtlessly they would have protested against it and clamoured for his survival.

The silver-haired youth had developed out of his bleak hysteria, a kind of blank spite that Samias had never seen before from his best friend warping his features. When the news of the Inquisition's betrayal had spread throughout the whole detachment of the Chrome Fangs, hope had almost been lost – before the knowledge that they were probably all going to die without the deliverance of the false promise of Arbites assistance inspired its own sort of desperate, unthinking faith that they would survive.

Irrational, illogical, it had erupted like wildfire in the ranks of the gangers, emboldening them with a grim, determined hope of making it through this – in spite of the Red Eyes, in spite of those who had used them as pawns and thrown them away when their worth had been expended.

Samias still felt a defiant fire in him now. A fire to keep on going in the memory of those they had lost, a fire to prevent the bastard Red Eyes achieving their goals. Even if he wasn't surviving past this fateful night, he would deny them the satisfaction of giving up.

Nonetheless, such powerful emotion wasn't a perfect substitute for actual energy. Exhaustion had begun to set in, bruises and wounds stitched across him by the second wave of Red Eyes and their foul Marshal and the haunting toll of watching those he had grown up with and had given him a proper life being torn from this world pushing down on his shoulders.

Hunkered down in the abandoned factory, having retreated there when the newest assault announced their presence, Samias's shots had become sloppy, not quite as pinpoint accurate as they had been before. The autorifle in his hands, scavenged from a Fang he had known as Irella, fired fast enough that it didn't matter much, though he was painfully aware of his dwindling reserves of ammunition.

"For the Emperor!" an amplified voice screamed across the avenue, Red Eye heads turning from where they were advancing on the last refuge of the Chrome Fangs to its source. Actual, true hope welled up in Samias's chest as a black clad figure slammed into the ranks of the Red Eyes, her chainsword carving brutal arcs through lightly-armoured bodies.

 _So they're finally here,_ he thought, bitterness warring with his renewed surge of optimism as he fired covering support for Florencia. Perhaps at the head of a flanking force the Sister of Battle would have been a lance to pierce through the ranks of the Red Eyes and crush them beneath superior military prowess, but alone even with her clearly formidable armour and fighting ability she wouldn't make much of a dent.

Florencia bobbed and weaved with remarkable agility in her powered suit as she ripped through gangers left and right, using the number of Red Eyes as makeshift cover – not that it stopped many of them from firing through their allies towards this new threat.

Samias launched a spray of bullets at one particular Red Eye preparing to leap at Florencia from behind, ducking back behind the rockcrete wall as a hail of retaliation fire impacted into the surface. Maybe only a few minutes earlier he would have propelled himself into the fray alongside the woman, as would many of the other Chrome Fangs, but with the stark lies of the Inquisitor freshly burnt into their minds they seemed content to lay down a rejuvenated offensive from the safety of their cover.

Howling with a mix of terror and perverse glee, the Red Eyes began swarming Florencia, hurling themselves at her with knives, clubs and other barbed implements drawn.

Samias lost sight of her in the carnage, plenty of drugged warriors sticking to their original mission of eliminating the Chrome Fangs. Valeria joined her firepower to his as sizzling lasbolts and matter-based ammunition tore through some more distracted Red Eyes.

Florencia became visible once more, smashing gangers away from her with metal-clad fists, chainsword choking on gore as she left it activated and swung wildly. Even with that, she was quickly being overwhelmed, her battle gear no match for sheer numbers.

The eighteen year old was suddenly, sharply, reminded of the fact that Aurelius had told him both Florencia _and_ Strask had been assigned to help them as a metal sphere flew into the crowd. Florencia knelt, covering her helm with her arms as fire erupted into the street, incinerating the Red Eyes and scorching her armour a painful orange.

Another incendiary grenade exploded into flame further back in the avenue, gangers howling as they were engulfed in the conflagration – which bizarrely seemed to halt where the flame should naturally have continued to spread as if an invisible barrier had prevented its progress.

He felt the warmth of the flames from inside, fingers of heat licking at the youngster already drenched in sweat. He held no pity for the Red Eyes caught in the centre of its roasting intensity.

Samias cracked his head and his rifle to the side as the unmistakable form of Strask sprinted into the building, turning to fire his own lasrifle into the burning Red Eyes.

"Go! Now! We don't have much time!" he bellowed, snapping off his rapid-fire fusillade and motioning to the partially bewildered Chrome Fangs. "We will hold them off, but it won't be for long!"

"Do as he says!" roared Seleste, shoving her cousin into the open manhole cover. Samias watched as Florencia cut down more staggering Red Eyes in the raging inferno before retreating into cover herself, reloading her bolt pistol and firing pinpoint shots into survivors.

She turned to Sam for a short moment, regarding him impassively with golden eye lenses and panting for breath, before jutting her metal chin towards the sewer grate. The boy nodded, only partially in thanks, and with Val sprinted further back into the ruin in order to withdraw back into the abandoned passageway.

He couldn't truly level blame at Florencia and Strask for the deceit they had been a part in. They may have been complicit in it, though he doubted they had planned for it, and were here risking their lives for the Chrome Fangs. The adolescent only wondered how many of his family could have been saved if only they had possessed such aid from the beginning …

"Tell your people to run far away from the entrance to the sewers," Strask told Seleste as the latter watched him priming what looked to be explosive charges both round the sewer grate and the already dilapidated, half-crumbling hab-block. "I'm going to blow this place. That should stop them from following us."

Seleste nodded and relayed the orders with a curt shout, waving Samias down once Valeria had climbed out of sight.

As he turned to lower himself into the sewers, Samias watched as two figures, starkly out of place in the psychotic and vicious aesthetic of the Red Eyes, gazed at the retreating Fangs from the backlines of the gangers. They looked young, about his age but with the innocent air of children about them, shocks of red hair framing youthful faces.

He met the eyes of one, glinting with maniacal intrigue as it drifted over his form. They were red eyes, but more than the crimson of the Red EX drug the gang had gained its power and name from. Fractal sclera pierced into the boy, shards of bloody gossamer stretched out across spiralling ripples of an otherworldly, _alien_ consciousness. They were Goresc's eyes in a significantly developed, far more eldritch form, and sickened the boy to the core.

Only one other being he had ever seen possessed such a timelessly vile, hypnotically repulsive gaze – the Enslaver of District Elestra. Yet here Samias was looking into the eyes of a human girl. She smiled at him, thin lips drawn tight across a mirthless grin, before he snapped his eyes away and descended quickly, revulsion churning in his gut.

The air seemed cooler down here in the disused sewers, out of the flames and not charged with the merciless energy of slaughter. Very aware of what Strask was planning, Samias sprinted after the Chrome Fangs running ahead of him, still not willing to believe that they would be making it out of this.

Samias felt a rumbling beneath his feet, the ground above and below quaking as the sound of an explosion ripped into the subterranean passage.

As he ran, the boy let tears he had managed to bottle up inside of him for the last portions of the battle fall. They streamed out of his eyes, blurring the image of Val ahead of him into an indistinct shimmer, and anguished sobs punctuated gasps for breath.

He couldn't help but think of Jamie, his mind pulling up the last proper conversation they had shared pacing the other way through the tunnels. He whimpered, wishing that he could scream at his past self to _turn around, run,_ that they were walking into a betrayal.

Strask and Florencia's intervention might have given the remaining Fangs an opportunity to retreat, but had the Arbites been contacted as the Inquisitor's retinue were in the midst of their operation as had been promised they would have arrived much sooner.

 _You could have saved him!_ Samias's mind howled at him, guilt crashing into him in waves of shuddering sadness. _If you were stronger, you would have protected him from Goresc. If you were smarter, you would never have fallen for the lies. If you were a better friend, you would have let Goresc take you instead of leaving him for dead._

"I-I couldn't," the boy wept, "I d-din't know …"

 _You should have known! Now so many are dead because of_ you! _You brought the Inquisition to your family, you blindly trusted Julion and Aurelius, you caused this! If you hadn't abandoned Valeria and Michael, your_ friends, _in District Elestra you would never have met the Inquisition!_

"I'm sorry," the words dissolved into incoherent sobs, before Samias angrily wiped his eyes. Crying wasn't going to help anyone, couldn't solve anything.

The worst part of it all was that the actions of those he thought he could trust made sense, terrible, terrible sense.

Why would they ruin their mission in the upper hive and announce their presence to everyone in Enchellus just to save a few more lives of underhive gangers? Mikey had been right. They'd been willing pawns to play, a distraction so that the Inquisitorial group could pursue their own goals.

Samias refused to think of it even as it scratched at the edges of his mind.

Jamie, Garulf, Menerva, Arad, Irella, Vexe …

The list of the fallen went on and on. Samias's despair was soon joined by rage, pouring into him, revitalising limbs sapped by sorrow and pain. It was all too much to handle at once, all of it overwhelming in its intensity.

When the Fangs finally made it back to their home, the horrified expressions of those who had remained to guard it – a few youngsters younger than Samias and those who had sustained recent wounds – told them everything the survivors needed to know about their state.

Samias felt comforting hands reaching towards him, suppressing the urge to violently shove them away and letting warm arms embrace his lightly shaking form. It was Val, the girl resting her head against his shoulder for a moment as she hugged him, her own need for reassurance stark in her actions even as she attempted to provide the same for her friends.

He put his arm round her shoulders, gazing over to where Michael was watching them and attempting to gently beckon him into the hug. The boy stared back with a haunted expression, before stepping forwards and squeezing the two lightly.

They were silent like that for a few moments. They weren't happy moments, awkward, stretched out and each of the gangers feeling unable to comfort the others.

Samias usually had words for this sort of thing. He'd often taken it upon himself to be an emotional bulwark, a refuge his friends could retreat to and share anything with, because listening to their worries and helping defeat them made both them and him happy.

Now he had nothing. What was he supposed to say? That they should be content because they were the lucky ones, because they had survived a night that so many others didn't?

Valeria hugged him tightly, Mikey, more distantly, mirroring Samias himself.

"It'll be ok," she whispered on the verge of more tears, squeezing her friends to her chest as if that would stop the world from ripping them away. It wouldn't. The grief was too recent, too real to be soothed by meaningless platitudes.

 _You could have lost them as well. You should be grateful that you didn't; you should say something,_ anything.

He couldn't. His thoughts spoke true, but he wasn't able to stop thinking of those who had died at the hands of the Red Eyes, how he almost wished he was still there so that he could exact a greater price on the rival gang for their crimes.

Samias felt selfish, knowing that Val was trying to offer him an emotional lifeline, a first step on the road to repair. Maybe later he'd be able to offer something back, but right now the anger and misery were coiling within his chest would be the only things he could share.

A short, awkward cough interrupted the trio's stilted embrace. Samias drifted free from his friends and turned, presented with Strask gazing softly at them despite the hardness still present in his eyes.

"I'm afraid you three will be coming with us. The Inquisitor has ordered your presence and continued assistance in our investigation," he informed them as dispassionately as he could seem to manage. Shock thudded through Samias's thoughts, but before he could react as vehemently as he could Seleste had already snarled with fury and shoved herself in front of the friends.

"There's no way that's happening. Not a chance in hell. Don't you think you've taken enough from us?" she growled, her tone aching for the excuse for violence.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice. The Inquisitor's orders must be obeyed," the man replied, levelly, keeping his posture strictly neutral as Seleste prowled towards him. Samias was still processing the news that Julion wanted them to continue to serve in his entourage. He didn't know what to think.

 _He probably just wants more pawns to do his bidding,_ a more caustic part of his mind spat, whilst another eagerly yearned for the chance to make more of a difference, to play a part in saving the hive.

 _One thing's for certain – Strask and Florencia wouldn't have come back for us if they hadn't wanted something more._

"The Inquisitor can stick his orders where they belong. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your fucking brains out right now!" the woman waved her shotgun to emphasise her point, rage merging with cold, ruthless steel. Strask held up a placating hand as Florencia snapped forwards, remaining unfazed by the proximity of the barrel.

"We just saved you from that mess," he said, to which Seleste laughed. More Fangs had begun to circle the confrontation, exhausted, battered and full of resentment for the Inquisitorial representatives.

"Saved us? You got us into that mess in the first place! _You_ are responsible for the deaths of those Fangs. But right now," she gestured with her free arm, encompassing the remaining members of the gang, "There's still plenty of us – and just two of you. If we kill you now, you won't be taking Sammy, Mikey and Val."

"Do you truly desire more bloodshed?" Florencia's distorted voice rang out before Strask could respond, a reminder that she was still clad in power armour. It was battered and singed, punctured in places where the woman's blood was leaking out, but still thrumming with deadly potential.

She had a point. Strask might fall instantly to a point blank blast from the shotgun, but all of the Chrome Fangs had witnessed how much the Sister of Battle could withstand. Florencia would reap a bloody toll before they overcame her – a toll that they couldn't afford.

"Seleste, stop. We'll go," Michael spoke, words free of his usual trepidation. He paced in front of his cousin, eyes sincere, "This is … bigger than us. The whole world is at stake. If we can help … then we have to. Right, Sam, Val?"

Valeria nodded solemnly, coming to stand by her friend and placing a hand on his shoulder. Samias didn't move, willing to let it all play out in front of him.

"And when did the world ever care about us?" Seleste asked, so softly Samias barely heard it. All of her fury dissipated for a short moment, before it raged back into life with even greater fervour, "Bullshit! You're not going with them, Michael. I won't let them take you three from us as well."

The woman wiped away glistening tears, tightening her grip on her shotgun and stepping so her cousin was no longer in the line of fire. Wisely, Strask and Florencia elected to remain silent, allowing Michael to convince Seleste.

"It's not just for the world. It's for you guys as well. If the Enslavers spread, it won't just be those in the upper hive that are fucked," he brushed off Valeria's offered comfort, coming to stand directly in front of his cousin once again.

"He's right. If we help the Inquisitor root out the corruption in the upper hive, things might improve for those down here as well," Val added, her voice full of a conviction she clearly wasn't expecting. Samias knew why, of course. Part of him was the same. After what they had suffered through, all three of them had latched onto the possibility of making a difference. Of giving meaning to the deaths of their friends.

"Why should we trust them? They told us they'd relocate us to the upper hive, to be living a life of luxury, that the Red Eyes would be annihilated! They lied about all of it!" Seleste snarled. She whirled back to Strask, adding: "I know you'll just spin some shitty excuse about all that. I don't want to hear it."

"It's like Strask said: we don't have a choice. This is something we – _I_ – have to do," Mikey murmured, Valeria committing her own words in support, "As do I."

"Samias?" Seleste turned, her words coloured with resigned acceptance. Samias gazed into her eyes for a moment, before glancing over at his friends. Both Val's grey orbs and Mikey's hazel ones were filled to the brim with emotion – grief, anger, but also hope, determined, desperate hope bursting out of them so brightly Samias thought he might be blinded by it. If his closest friends thought they should go, then there wasn't a decision to be made.

Though he might have his reservations, he shared that hope. And he knew, deep down, that Inquisitor Julion and his retinue acted with the best interests of the Imperium's people. He didn't want to leave the Chrome Fangs, his family, behind, not after all that had been inflicted upon them. Yet staying behind was tantamount to consigning them to an even worse fate.

"We have to go," he told Seleste after a short pause, taking up his place by his friends. She nodded, defeated, all of the wrath and hate fading from her expression as her tense posture slackened. He turned to look at the rest of the Fangs, sad understanding blooming in their haunted eyes, the spectres of pain taking root within them not eclipsing their support of the three's collective decision.

"Stay safe. Come back to us once you're done. You'll always be welcome here with us," Seleste breathed as she choked back more tears, before crushing the trio in a tight hug that she quickly released.

As a few more of the gangers embraced the three individually for short moments, she glared back at Strask with undisguised resentment, "You keep them safe. If you don't, I'll find your precious Inquisitor and put a bullet in his head."

It was an empty threat, but Seleste still spoke it as if she meant it – the implication was all that mattered. Strask nodded, "We will."

"Now go. I don't want to see any of any of you Inquisition types again," she ordered. Samias took one last look at his home for the past nine years, before following Strask and Florencia alongside his friends.

They didn't say goodbyes. It wasn't the Chrome Fang way. Goodbyes were reserved only for the dead, and Samias had every intention of returning himself, Michael and Valeria alive.

.*.*.*.

Samias sat sullenly in the corner of the landing craft all five of them had secured passage upon, too preoccupied in his emotions to even feel any wonderment at the fact that they were leaving the surface of Karvonis IV.

Strask had explained that the rest of the group would have already used the Inquisitor's personal gunship, the _Melinoe_ , to reach the _Persephone_ hanging in low orbit alongside the many transport ships ferrying raw materials from Karvonis II so that they could review the evidence that they had acquired and decided upon a new plan of action and a new insertion point into the hive.

Apparently, flying up to the cruiser and then back into one of Enchellus's five starports was more efficient and safer than traversing the hive itself. The boy almost wished he could see their passage through the upper atmosphere of his homeworld, but the compartment of the bulky craft they had convinced the pilots of to take them (along with other miners that would be travelling back to the industry vessels) to their destination wasn't afforded the luxury of reinforced windows.

His friends and the Inquisitorial members gave him a wide berth, the dark mood he was in hanging visibly over Samias as he sat motionlessly in the empty room. That was fine by him. He wasn't in the right state of mind to want people talking to him, and would just end up snapping at them.

They might have agreed to help the Inquisitor, but that didn't mean Samias had forgiven them for the lives of his family lost in the incursion into Red Eye territory. His thoughts had kept dragging him to thinking of those he had watched die, been too weak to protect, over and over and over until he stopped resisting and willingly thrust himself into the anger and guilt.

He was sure that the scowl lining his features would be prominent, but didn't care. Samias wanted to be alone, to collect himself or to release all of the rage bubbling up inside without anyone else being there to see, but right now that wasn't feasible.

So instead he isolated himself as much as he could, mulling over the events of the night. His wounds throbbed, though before they had embarked Strask had treated them at the starport hideout, muttering that he would need to take a look at them again in the medicae facilities aboard the _Persephone._

The boy wished that it had all just been a nightmare, that he would awaken soon back in his bed at the Chrome Fangs' base and everyone who had been torn from him would be there to greet him again – that he had never met the Inquisition.

 _It's not the first time you've wanted it to be a bad dream,_ he reflected ruefully, his mind allowing him to think back to his life before the Fangs for a few moments. The pistol was all he had left of that time, his mother's Aquilla pendant rammed into the eyes of Goresc.

Samias let his head droop and rested them on his arms, bringing up his knees. Tears stung his green eyes, yet he refused to let them fall. _Not here. You can't cry here. Just stay strong._

Bearing the guilt and responsibility for what had happened alone was too much, though he rejected any notion of blaming Val or Michael equally as much as he blamed himself. He was the one who'd been so trusting. It was his fault.

 _It wasn't my fault. How could I have known?_ A part of him railed against it, whilst another growled from within, _You should have known! You shouldn't have risked your friends!_

"Samias?" Val's voice made him snap up, shuddering backwards and violently wiping his eyes, choking back a sob that had been about to escape and staring up at the girl. She stared back at him with pity and sympathy he at once craved but didn't deserve, and smiled, "We're here."

The boy blinked. Sure enough, the constant rumbling beneath him as the craft breached the stratosphere had subsided, replace by a gentle thrumming of unexerted engines.

"… Yeah," he replied after a moment's delay, his throat dry and the words quiet.

"Come on. Let's see what the Inquisitor wants with us," Valeria held out a hand, which Samias clasped onto and rose to his feet. The other three were already waiting by the exit of the compartment, and had the eighteen year old been in a better mood he would have felt embarrassed for wasting time.

They departed the atmospheric lander, stepping through into a vast docking bay. A sleek black freighter (much smaller than the bulbous craft they had just exited) which must have been the Melinoe laid to the right of them, though Samias didn't have long to take in the view before Strask was urging them ahead.

"Woah …" Michael breathed, awe encapsulating his expression as he stared around himself. Strask laughed good-naturedly, telling him: "It might look big, but the _Persephone's_ a small ship in the grand scheme of things. You should see some of the mooring bays in capital class ships. They make this one look tiny."

Samias wished he could share his friend's excitement as they left through a mag-locked entrance, the blaring noise of the void-shields opening and their transport departing, barely muffled by the sheets of metal between them and the craft, bringing a lump to his throat. He knew they wouldn't be here long, just to reconvene and re-evaluate their position, yet he couldn't help but feel trapped here.

"The Inquisitor will probably be in the Sanctum," Strask stated, "So unless you want to get lost in the ship I suggest you follow me."

The gangers did as they were told, progressing through bare, unfurnished metal corridors lit by harsh white lumen strips too far apart to dispel the darkness into a more well-lit area moulded with plascrete and almost indistinguishable from a land-based structure's interior.

The journey took them a long time. Samias had heard that void-bound ships were large, but evidently had never quite grasped the scale of them in his imagination. It was almost impossible to believe that they were still in a piece of metal drifting slowly through cold space, yet Strask had mentioned that the _Persephone_ was minor in comparison to other naval behemoths.

Obviously Michael was having similar thoughts as the boy asked, "How far away is this Sanctum?"

Strask chuckled softly before responding, "Not too far now kid. Most of the rooms we use on this ship are close by one another, so it doesn't normally take this long to get about."

"How much of this ship's space do you use?" Valeria inquired.

"Overall? Barely any of it. There's not much need for us to go to the engines or reactors, nor where the workers or crew live. A lot of it is just empty space. It's easier to just stick to a smaller region when there isn't that many of us."

As the man led them on a snaking route through identical corridors, climbing up at least three flights of stairs, a whirring noise caught Samias's attention. He turned, glancing down a passageway they weren't entering, and was startled by a strange creature moving towards them.

Glassy, dead eyes stared in his direction, shining internally with a mechanical orange glow, embedded in a head resting on a pale torso in turn attached to an automated rig, motorised treads carrying it across the floor.

It had no human arms, though several metal ones extended out from either side carrying a variety of implements. The thing was ghastly, a repurposed human turned into little more than a machine.

"I'm guessing you've never seen a servitor before?" Strask asked, following the boy's revolted gaze as the thing turned and began cleaning the wall. Samias nodded. "Don't worry. They're harmless. Macabre, maybe, but you'll get used to them – or come to like them. They're quite common, so I'm surprised this is your first time."

Samias turned from the being that paid him no mind, shuddering internally at the thought of being converted into one of those. Whether or not it still had human sentience and sensations was another question entirely.

The areas they passed through gradually became more and more pleasant, heated to an agreeable temperature instead of the freezing cold they had just left. Several more ornate doors automatically opened with a grinding of heavy metal mechanisms to permit them passage before Strask gestured to the entrance that they were approaching.

This one didn't move with their arrival, and seemed more stylistic than others they had entered. Fluted with golden engravings depicting words Samias couldn't read, the door was outlined with Imperial sigils – most prominently topped by the Aquila reaching out from the stylised I of the Inquisition.

Strask pressed on what Samias now recognised was a short-range communicator (from the similar device at their starport base Aurelius had utilised), and spoke: "Sir, it's me – Strask. I'm with the gangers."

He moved his thumb off of the button, explaining to the three, "The Sanctum is a room we use for private thought, if you ever wanted a place to think outside of your own personal areas."

The door opened, though they weren't greeted by anyone on the immediate threshold. Strask beckoned them in, the trio following mutely. Samias knew that he wouldn't be able to remove his brooding expression they might metamorphose into something worse when they met the Inquisitor again, but didn't care.

Surely Julion would anticipate anger, anyway. He knew full well what had happened back down in the undercity, despite the apparent favour he was showing the three he had encountered in Elestra.

The Sanctum was a dimly lit, open area that began as a hallway but ended in a sort of dome shape. Tapestries and frescoes adorned the metallic walls, depicting scenes of glorious battle and the forces of mankind triumphing over vile evils. They were certainly more rich than anything Samias had laid eyes upon before, yet even he could tell that the decorations didn't fall under excessive ostentation. Scripture written again in words the boy didn't know hang in the spaces between the art, interspersed thoughtfully along them so that the viewer wasn't immediately overwhelmed by the paintings.

Julion had risen up from a central chair in the middle of the hemispherical section, levelling his intense gaze over the five – particularly on the trio of Chrome Fangs. Strask and Florencia, either side of them, knelt, prompting the gangers to do the same after a moment's hesitation. The Inquisitor hadn't verbally demanded any gestures of fealty from them before, so it seemed strange to afford him with it now – in spite of the fact that his demeanour made Samias want to anyway.

"I'm glad that you made it," he spoke softly, although his words were still as hard as ever, carrying over to them in spite of their quietness. Julion strode to the front of them, his eyes as searching as ever, peeling away every layer of Samias's being to expose the core of him.

It made the eighteen year old feel angry. He didn't wish for Julion to see his weakness, his fear and self-loathing, but supposed he was making a poor show of hiding it anyway. It didn't take the Inquisitor's analytical gaze to see it clearly within him.

The man motioned for them to rise, an order that they followed instantly. Samias wanted to be furious at him, let the hatred he felt at his friends' deaths pour out, but found that he couldn't. The Inquisitor's countenance subconsciously convinced him that everything he did was for the sake of the Imperium, every action and every sacrifice (of things precious to himself or others) all in service to that goal.

"I asked for you here because I believe that each and every one of you have talents that will be of use in the protection of your world," his words effortlessly captured the attention of the gangers, even Samias in his terrible state enraptured and emboldened by them. "Talents that would have been squandered in the underhive. From this point onwards, you will become my agents, and will work alongside my retinue and I to root out and expunge the taint infesting Hive Enchellus."

Julion didn't give them a choice in the matter, but Samias didn't know if he would have been able to refuse even if he had.

"Prove that I am correct in my choice and you will join that retinue, becoming fully-fledged servants of the holy Ordos of the Inquisition," Julion gazed into each of the three in turn, and this time Samias didn't squirm underneath those piercing orbs. They imparted upon him the seriousness of those responsibilities he was being entrusted with, but also how the Inquisitor was deadly serious with what he had said. Despite the dark place he was festering in, Samias still felt his heart soar.

It was a great honour they were being afforded – to be working alongside members of an organisation thought of mostly as a myth by those in the wider Imperium. To think that Julion thought they were special made him both daunted and proud, though both soon drowned underneath the waves of misery in his heart.

 _I don't know how he thinks someone who can't even protect those that mean most to him and someone who falls for blatant lies can be of much use._

The man took something from his belt, handing each of the gangers an identical dataslate.

"Here is a map of the ship. I've assigned each of you a room in Section E, close to the mess hall. You can get some rest or explore, but I would recommend staying within the central sections. Karvonis IV has a similar axial rotation to Holy Terra, so acclimatising to the _Persephone's_ internal clock shouldn't be too difficult a task," Julion explained efficiently, adding, "We have collected evidence that suggests the Enslaver threat is not as immediate as first believed, thus it will be safer to plan our next move from here. It is likely we will leave in roughly twenty-four hours."

With that, the Inquisitor strode past them, leaving the gangers with Florencia and Strask.

.*.*.*.

Samias was fraught with emotion that he couldn't keep down any longer as he stalked through the ship corridors. After Strask had dealt more thoroughly with his injuries (their pain nothing compared to that in his chest) he had suggested he join his two friends in the ship's canteen to eat.

He'd tried, but could barely stomach the thought of food, so instead had trudged to his room and attempted to sleep.

That had been another mistake. With nothing to distract him, the guilt and grief flooded him with unrelenting force, making him both want to scream into his pillow or punch holes in the walls. Before he did that, Samias had decided that maybe a wander through the ship would help in getting the overwhelming anguish and loss plaguing his mind to lessen.

A clear destination had presented itself to him – the training rooms. Beating the shit out of some automatons could be a constructive release for all of the anger writing inside of him – and then if they hit back it would be a perfect punishment for his failures.

Samias had made the decision to go before he could think on it more. If someone else was there, he'd just leave, but if there wasn't he'd finally be able to properly let go without hurting himself or others.

He entered the room slowly, scanning his eyes around him as it expanded into his vision. To the left was a firing range, several weapons dotted around in caches next to numerous simulated combat scenarios. Samias didn't even consider it. Shooting wouldn't be enough; he needed to punch something.

To that end he walked right, towards the sparring cages, before being presented with a sight that made his blood boil.

 _It's him._

Aurelius was already there, his slender form clad in thin black fatigues as he grappled with what must have been a combat drone, much bulkier than the boy himself.

It threw the youngster onto the floor, raising a fist without pause to crash down into him. Aurelius blocked and deflected the blow with crossed forearms, slipping out from underneath and slamming his foot into what passed for the machine's head.

It reeled back, but without the pain faculties of humans quickly recovered and resumed its assault, closing in on the blonde. He rolled to dodge another punch, putting Samias in his line of sight. The boy's icy gaze lanced blankly into him, a moment's distraction that his automated opponent was quick to capitalise upon.

"Operator: shutdown combat subroutine," Aurelius's voice was crystal clear and bereft of panic as the automaton had leapt at him before instantly halting in its charge.

" _Shutdown initiated. Query: change combat level?_ " a metallic, female voice projected into the ring. Aurelius quickly replied with a negative, the deactivated drone returning to a container in the floor which had risen up and lowered once its cargo was inside, the arena's door opening. The Interrogator turned to Samias, gazing up at the taller boy.

"Samias, I'm-"

"What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?" the Fang growled, stepping through into the cage and glaring down at the Pariah, all of the molten rage he had held in relative check until now beginning to erupt out, "Last night was your plan, wasn't it? Why did you _plan_ to lie to us all?"

"I did what I had to," Samias wasn't sure if he heard a hint of emotion in Aurelius's young voice. Right now he didn't care in the slightest. He laughed mirthlessly, "What you had to? You had to make my friends think that you were going to help us once we risked our lives for you, did you?"

Aurelius stayed silent, though his gaze hardened again, the blank contempt Samias had become used to from him manifesting once more. He took that as an opportunity to launch another tirade, shouting at the object of his blame for the disaster only a few hours ago.

"My friends died because of you, Aurelius! They died because you lied to us, thinking that you'd be done soon and would be sending in the Arbites! Do we mean nothing to you? Nothing at all?!" Samias was snarling now, pacing closer to the boy with fury tensing his limbs.

"Not more than the lives of everyone on this world, no. They are nothing in comparison to that," the Interrogator's reply was, sans the time Samias had touched him, the least emotionless he had heard Aurelius yet.

"Who gives _you_ the right?!" Samias clenched his fists, wanting nothing more than to punch Aurelius in his stupid lying face but managing to restrain himself.

"Sacrifices have to be made for the greater good. I'm truly sorry about your friends, but if I had to choose between some underhive criminals and our mission I'd make the same choice every single time."

Samias let out a furious roar, snapping forwards and grabbing the smaller male by the fabric of his shirt, shoving him hard against the padded walls of the cage.

"Samias, let go of me," Aurelius demanded, reaching up his hands to clasp onto Samias's wrists as he pushed the younger of the two harder, shouting angrily into his face, "You bastard! Who gave you the right to throw away the lives of others?! I had to watch my friends, my _family,_ die in front of my eyes for your mission."

"Let. Go. Of. Me," emotion was tight within the Interrogator's tone as well, oozing with untapped potential. Now that Samias was so close to him, their faces inches apart and his fingers twisted in the boy's shirt, knuckles digging into the skin beneath, the full force of his void aura had expanded around him.

The darkness clogged his thoughts, seeping into the anger and warping it to hate as it wrapped around the feelings, every physical sensation heightened but his mental functions smothered by malignant nothingness.

Samias only pressed in harder as a response, hissing, "Strask was right. You are soulless. Only someone without a soul could be this wilfully cruel and still mask it as goodness."

Over and over, the sound of Aurelius's lying voice speaking into his ear played out on a loop, his reveal of their deception after Samias had desperately pleaded for help pounding into his head.

An impact slammed into his legs, and before he could register anything happening his head had smacked into the floor, the sensation of another person beneath his hands as well as the suffocating emptiness instantly dissolving.

Aurelius strode away from the downed Samias, smoothing his shirt and ignoring the minor pain of what would be faint bruising from the boy's strong grip pressing into him. He tried and failed to let a sneer of both disgust and disappointment bloom onto his face.

Obviously, Samias had just escaped an extremely emotionally charged situation and, obviously, Aurelius had lied to him to further the Inquisition's goals. There was no denying those basic facts, and yet still some small part of him had truly believed Samias might have been something different, that he might have somehow wanted to engage with him even knowing what he was.

He could understand that the boy was angry. He had suffered the same in the past. But he refused to be the outlet for that anger. As he walked towards the cage door, a furious cry caught him off guard.

Startled, Aurelius was yanked back by a hand gripping his bicep, jolting his arm and ripping him off of the ground for a moment. Instincts honed into him by years of combat training kicked in, and he slammed a palm into the taller boy's wrist, swerving left to dodge a fist aimed squarely at his face.

 _So you want a fight? Fine._ The blonde lashed out with a kick, catching Samias in the chest and sending him staggering backwards. Pressing his advantage, Aurelius took a quick step forwards and swept at his ankles, his weakened balance a catalyst for the blow to send him sprawling again.

As he fell, Samias suddenly reached out and grabbed the blonde, dragging him to the floor with a short cry. He sat up on top of him, intending to pin Aurelius beneath his heavier weight, only for the skinnier boy to slip out from beneath his legs before he could get his hands on him.

Snarling, he sprang up to his feet, blocking a jab that would have lanced him square in the face and closing his fingers round the smaller's fist. Again, Aurelius had darted back before he could hold him still, his stance taut but fluid as opposed to Samias's own bullish, hunched posture.

Aurelius didn't waste any breath on words as he stalked back for a moment, a swelling tide of emotion threatening to break down all of the barriers he had painstakingly erected in an ugly wave. It was evident trying to reason with the ganger would yield no results, but sufficiently beating him into the ground probably would.

Samias came at the blonde again. Aurelius was faster and had better technique, but was also more fragile, whilst Samias's attacks were more violent and less precise but stronger. He could tell the Interrogator was trying to keep him at a distance, constantly dancing at the edges of his reach and using his own sweeping kicks and accurate jabs to inflict damage where he could without letting Samias bring his muscle to bear.

Aurelius punched forwards, Samias raising his forearm to block it, before the younger leapt and sent a scything kick into his stomach. He let out a yelp of pain as the boy's foot impacted into his gut, biological nausea joining that induced by Aurelius's presence.

Sensing weakness, the Pariah closed in, elbowing Samias in the throat and dragging his bigger arm behind his back as he slipped past, eluding the boy's other hand reaching for him. He struggled for a moment and ripped his arm away, spinning round to Aurelius and catching a fist speeding towards his cheek.

He squeezed the hand hard, and shoved Aurelius down, only to find that the lighter teen was using his grip as leverage to ram his boot into his stomach again.

"Arrghh!" the eighteen year old screamed as the attack hit the same place as before, backing off with a hand on his gut and tears blurring his eyes. His head was pounding, his rage surging through the pain but not negating it.

Aurelius darted in for another blow, but this time Samias was ready. He didn't bother trying to block the feint the Interrogator sent his way, letting his fist crash into his face as he tackled the younger to the ground. Pain shuddered through his cheekbone, blood spurting from his mouth as Aurelius yelped beneath him as they crashed into the sparring cage's padding, Samias clambering on top of him as fast as he could.

He wrapped a large hand round one of the boy's arms, pinning it down as hard as he could manage with it squirming beneath him at awkward angles in its attempt to slip away and punched Aurelius in the face.

At least, he would have done, had the younger not caught his fist with his free hand and direct its force to the side of his head, digging fingers into a pressure point on his wrist. The sudden, unexpected agony was excruciating. Samias shouted with pain and ripped his arm back, giving Aurelius chance to pull his legs back and jut his knee into the boy's stomach.

Coughing blood, though from the punch to his face or the repeated strikes to his gut he couldn't tell, Samias reeled, smashing blindly with his fists. Aurelius shoved him away with his feet before flipping back to his feet.

He leapt forwards, punching Samias in the face again, this time in the eye. Samias flinched back with a cry of pain, his vision impaired as the aggressor darted back out of reach of retaliation.

"Want to give up yet?" honestly, he had intended to ask the question sincerely. Instead the words came out twisted by mocking contempt as he sized Samias up and analysed the damage he had inflicted so far.

Staggering to his feet and wiping his blood from his lips, the elder glared at him with unrelenting rage. Both of them were panting from the exertion and drenched in sweat, Samias more so than the Interrogator, but to him the fight was only just beginning.

"Not a fucking chance," in another circumstance, the words might have been good-natured, competitive, yet right now they rippled with hate and seething with defiance. His good eye zoned in on Aurelius, a bruise already blossoming around the other. _I'll make him pay for what he did, he'll fucking pay!_

 _Suit yourself_. Samias struck first, a barrelling fist which would have broken its target's bones launched towards Aurelius. The Interrogator ducked beneath it, reaching round and slicing his fist into the back of Samias's elbow.

Samias cried out in pain, which led to Aurelius not expecting the backhand slamming into his face from the arm he had just attacked. It sent him lurching to the side for a moment, dislodging his precise control of the fight for a moment.

A moment was all that Samias needed to capitalise on. He punched Aurelius in the chest, the boy's last second step back reducing some of the impact but not enough to prevent him stumbling back with a winded cough.

The larger grabbed onto the smaller and threw him to the ground face-first, wrapping a hand round his slender wrist and twisted his arm painfully behind his back.

Aurelius let out a scream as a fist cracked across the back of his head, bouncing his face off of the luckily padded floor. He scrambled, shoving himself further into Samias's hold and managing to twist himself out as he did so – Samias having expected him to try and struggle in the direction away from it.

He wrapped an arm round the boy's neck as his back pushed into Samias's chest, Aurelius twisting round before he could apply the constricting hold and slamming a palm into his throat. Gasping for breath, Samias still managed a snarl as the blonde tried to propel himself backwards away from the taller boy.

 _Oh no you don't._

The Chrome Fang grabbed onto Aurelius's slender waist and dragged him back under him, ignoring his own pain as he slapped him in the face, the hand interspersed between his own and the boy's cheek knocked aside before it could find any sort of purchase for a block.

 _I need to get him off. Get off!_ Panic flooded the Interrogator's limbs with a desperate energy, managing to bring his legs between him and the boy on top of him and launching a flurry of kicks aimed at the general area he had primarily inflicted damage upon so far.

One of Samias's arms tried to shove his legs back down whilst his other hand wrapped round Aurelius's throat, pushing down hard and fully enclosing his neck between it and the floor.

His breathing violently cut off, the seventeen year old resisted the temptation to flail wildly and pushed at the elbow joint of the choking arm, managing to dislodge it and break free, scrambling away from his larger opponent.

 _Need to put some distan-_

Samias instantly wrenched him back upright, punching him square in the face with full force and sending him ricocheting off the floor.

"Ahhh-"Aurelius let out an involuntary whimper, tears brimming in his blue eyes and blood leaking from a cut on his cheek. He wiped them free, crawling away from Samias before the boy's rough hands pulled him closer and flipped him over to face him.

Those large hands then encircled his neck again, immediately squeezing off his air and pressing him into the floor as Samias mounted him. He shoved at Samias's elbows again, but this time it barely dislodged the strangling grip.

 _You'll pay, you'll pay, you'll pay …_ Samias barely registered the choked grunts of the boy beneath him as he pushed desperately at taut arms, staring into Aurelius's icy blue eyes as they flitted over him wildly.

For a moment, all he could think of was the hopeless betrayal he had felt back in the clutches of the Red Eyes, the bleak revelation that there would be no proper salvation for them and that even more of his family would die before they were saved.

 _You'll pay for their deaths …_ Samias squeezed his hands as hard as they could, feeling the thin throat beneath them constricting and trying as hard as it could to eke in air. He could barely hear the strangled wheezes of Aurelius over his own throbbing skull and the sounds of his friends, though he could feel his gloved fingers scrabbling for purchase over his choking hands and weakening tugs on his wrists.

 _I'm going to die._

The thought came unbidden to Aurelius, crystal clear in a sea of muddled panic and fright as his lungs screamed for air. He pulled as hard as he could on the hands clamped so tight around his neck he thought the bones within it might be permanently crushed.

They didn't move. Aurelius opened his mouth, his tongue swelling within it as he tried to plead, but couldn't even get enough air for a whisper. In such a horrifying situation, he would have no qualms about releasing his Null powers to the fullest extent he was capable of, but couldn't reach his Animus beneath Samias's hands.

Darkness clouded the extremities of his already blurring vision, his eyes beginning to close without his consent. Aurelius kicked his legs wildly, shaking them and his hands as he tried desperately to even slightly budge the hands squeezing his throat so that he could just get in one single breath. His head pounded, brain howling for oxygenated blood.

 _I don't … I don't want to die …_

He could feel saliva beginning to pool round his lips and dribble down his chin, a last, desperate burst of movement causing him to punch and scratch against the hands choking him to death, drawing blood but not moving them before they slowly fell to just gently gripping Samias's wrists.

 _Please Samias … I don't … I'm scared …_

Before his eyes could flutter shut, the pressure strangling the life from him suddenly eased up. Aurelius sucked in a desperate breath, too exhausted to even try to move the hands still wrapped firmly round his neck.

Samias stared down at the awful sight of the boy beneath him with horror, stealing his breath as if he was the one who had been choked. His pale skin was a reddish-purple, bloodshot and half-lidded eyes streaming with tears as he dragged in painful breaths through blueish lips. His head was muddled, all the anger in him that made him want to harm instantly replaced by anguish and grief, and he pulled his hands away.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" a large hand on his shoulder wrenched him off of Aurelius, and Samias caught a glimpse of painful red imprints on his abused throat before he was spun around and presented by a furious Strask.

"I … we …" Samias had no words for what had just happened. They had been fighting, and choking Aurelius into submission was a logical way of winning, but then and there Samias hadn't wanted to "win".

The whole point of the fight had been to hurt the person he subconsciously blamed alongside himself for the deaths of his friends, make him share the guilt that was crushing Samias alone – but that would have been solved by shouting his grievances at Aurelius whilst he was strangling him and releasing him a few seconds after he submitted.

That was what he had intended, anyway, but during it all he had felt was the desire to squeeze harder and harder until he couldn't anymore.

"You were fighting," Strask growled, gazing at the bloody bruises on Samias's face and the contusion round one eye, lowering his own fist before gripping onto the boy's other shoulder. "I don't care how angry you were at Aurelius. Don't you _dare_ ever hurt him like that again."

Despite how quiet the threat was in comparison with his earlier roar, the words were far more intimidating, sending an involuntary shudder up Samias's spine. He doubted Strask would hesitate to kill him if he was caught like this again – and he would deserve it.

Aurelius laid still for a few moments, trying to focus on regaining a steady mantra of breaths, before reaching up and wiping the saliva from his mouth and chin with a small grimace.

He pressed slender, shaking fingers to his cheeks, feeling another liquid he hadn't realised was running down them. The second he noticed the tears spilling down his face, he broke into a series of desperate, panicked sobs.

 _No … no … not in front of them, please stop. Please don't cry._

His choked whimpers didn't listen to him, only worsening as the reality of what had just transpired embedded itself in his mind.

 _Come on … it's not that bad … it's not like having your friends die …_

The twinned relief and trauma was too much to handle even as he tried pathetically to suppress it. He couldn't tell how long Samias had choked him for, instead gazing at the flecks of saliva on his hands, thankful that there was no sign of blood in it.

The boy let his head fall back, trying to dismiss the bruising pain on his throat and face and choke back quiet sobs. As his vision refocused, he looked over at Samias and then noticed Strask, assuming the former guardsman had dragged the larger youth off of him.

 _Would he have kept going if Strask hadn't turned up?_

His shock was quickly substituted for hefty amounts of both anger and a desire for isolation, a desire to get as far away as he could from every other person that was driven to prejudice and violence because of his mutation.

Samias was rendered speechless, nodding after a brief delay to satisfy Strask. He wouldn't be laying hands on the Interrogator again, that was for certain, and right now all he felt was a gnawing sickness in his stomach – though that might have just been the repeated blows to it.

 _This wasn't how it was supposed to go … but then what did I actually want to happen? How did I expect it to end when I started a fight with him?_

He twisted his head as the blonde jerked to his feet, staggering upright and storming out of the practice cage.

"Aurelius …" Samias reached out a hand, wanting to apologise even if he didn't know the words. He wouldn't have touched the boy, having abused his wish not to be enough already, but Strask's vice-like grip held him still and stopped him from following.

"Let him go," he murmured, sighing despondently for a moment and gazing down at Samias. "Listen kid, I know you've suffered today … but that doesn't … What exactly happened?"

Samias glanced up from where he was intently gazing into the spot Aurelius had just left, before shrugging dejectedly, swallowing. He didn't want to talk about it, now that his fresh wounds had just been joined by more (admittedly less severe ones), and had to hold in tears to stop himself bursting into them.

 _Can't do anything right!_  
He let out another sigh, relaxing his grip on the boy's shoulder but still keeping it firm, a reminder that he would be remaining here and hardening his voice, "Forget it. The Inquisitor will be seeing you both soon. Maybe you can explain it to him better than you have to me."


	8. Light of the Stars

**Warning in advance: this is a very long chapter, but I didn't really think splitting it up was appropriate.**

* * *

For the second time in as many hours, Samias found himself walking towards the _Persephone's_ Sanctum through the empty halls of the ship, a coolant pack that Strask had handed silently to him pressed against his eye as he neared the room's baroque doors.

For all he tried to ignore it, Samias was trembling. Not because of the impending disciplinary censure he would undoubtedly receive from the Inquisitor – he would be lying if he asserted that the man didn't terrify him, and that was when he'd been on his good side – but because of all the stress of the past twenty four hours finally catching up with him.

It had been an awful day, though Samias didn't know if it had ranged over multiple or not, especially now that he was above his planet. Fighting for his life, witnessing the death of his friends, drowning in the bleak darkness of crushing betrayal and then culminating with almost killing Aurelius who hadn't deserved that.

He'd seen the boy in the corridors, no doubt heading to the same destination, equipped with a similar coolant pack gently soothing his bruised neck. He had, understandably, flinched violently when he'd noticed Samias, and quickly changed his route away from the Chrome Fang.

Samias did want to apologise. He hadn't forgiven Aurelius for what had been said between them nor how it had been his plan to sacrifice the gang, but accepted that blame did not lay solely on the boy's thin shoulders and that taking out his rage on the Interrogator in such a way wasn't the right thing to do.

He didn't know if he'd get a chance to, particularly since he had no intention of forcing himself into Aurelius's personal space again. His bruises attested to the folly of that. It would be logical for them never to speak again outside of the context of the mission, yet Samias didn't want that. All the anger he had felt towards his situation and directed at Aurelius (who he had decided was the manifestation of that) had become remorse.

Besides, it wasn't like Samias to make enemies instead of friends. Back when they were escaping the Inquisitor's first hideout, Sam was certain that Aurelius was warming to him and the other two – even if all that consisted of was deigning to act cordially around them instead of ignoring their presence as much as he could.

 _Well, you definitely fucked that up._

He opened the unlocked door to the Sanctum, gulping as a pair of intense eyes pierced into him the moment he entered. Samias watched as the Inquisitor's gaze flicked to Aurelius already kneeling before him in the central area, and quickly followed suit, presuming that this was another time Julion would be flexing his authority over them.

The blonde didn't look up as Samias knelt a comfortable distance to his side, his still slightly bloodshot eyes remaining fixed on the engraved floor. Samias didn't dare say anything, not with the Inquisitor's presence looming over him.

"From what Strask has informed me and from what is plain to see, it is obvious there has been an altercation between you," Julion spoke to them with a harsh resonance to his words, as if they were petulant children – which, Samias supposed, wasn't entirely unjustified. "Would either of you care to shed some light on the event?"

A tense silence descended, punctuated only by the Inquisitor tapping the golden edge of his cuffs in an impatient rhythm. Aurelius remained silent, perhaps too scared of the potential repercussions for speaking, perhaps waiting for Samias to say something so that he could attack his position. The ganger suddenly found himself bereft of the ability to form words, and didn't know what he would say if he could. _I went to the training bay looking for a fight, found one, and almost choked Aurelius here until he was unconscious? Yeah, I'm sure that'll go down well._

Julion exuded exasperation, and Sam definitely got the impression that they were wasting his time with this - confirmed as he sighed, and irritably said, "I'm sure you are both aware that I have more pressing matters that require my attention, so _please_ indulge me."

Aurelius whispered something and then coughed painfully before speaking, "It was my fault. Samias was angry at me about last night, and I provoked him and hit back instead of diffusing the situation, causing our fight."

The boy's voice was hoarse, causing Samias to wince in both sympathy and guilt, before being startled when he realised the content of his words. Aurelius sounded dispassionate, but beneath the habitual blankness was a layer of sincerity that Samias could have easily missed had there been nothing left to focus on.

He turned to the blonde, words spilling out unbidden, "Aurelius, wha-"

"Be silent," the Inquisitor's command silenced the protests on his lips, Samias snapping his eyes back to the floor meekly. He didn't agree with what Aurelius was saying, it was him who had walked in there and laid his hands on the smaller teen when he had been explicitly told not to in the past and shouted in his face.

"Aurelius. Are you accepting responsibility for this altercation?" Julion asked, voice brooking no further interruption. Samias _felt_ the weight of his gaze shifting from him and pinning his student to the spot, wondering if the man himself had some latent superhuman potential but dismissing the ridiculous notion.

"Yes sir," the youngster replied after a short delay, adjusting the coolant pack strapped loosely to his neck with an anxiety his voice didn't reflect.

"Very well then. I expect better from you, Interrogator," Julion's speech was laden with disappointment, "In all the years of your service under me not once have you acted in such a childish manner. It is unbefitting of a servant of the Emperor. Because of your record, I will not act upon this misstep this time. But I want you to keep in mind that I will not hesitate to strip you of your newfound responsibilities if I feel that you are unsuited for them. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes sir," Aurelius kept to the same neutral tone. Without the ability to look at him, Samias had no idea at all as to what the other boy was feeling – though he could guess. He wanted to object, to share the blame if not have it laid solely at his feet, but was too much of a coward to say anything. He wasn't sure the Inquisitor would have been so "forgiving" had Aurelius told him exactly what had happened.

"You are dismissed. Ensure that this does not happen again," Samias didn't raise his eyes as the heavy presence of the blonde retreated silently, though he did when Julion called his name.

"Have you anything to add?" he asked with a level tone that heavily suggested he shouldn't. Sensing he was getting off lightly because the Inquisitor was willing to overlook it as a result of what he had just been through, Samias shook his head slowly.

"A wise decision. You are also dismissed. But, before you go," Julion paused as Sam rose to his feet, "Know that Aurelius was not solely the creator of the previous operation's plan. It is obvious that you resent both it and him because of it, yet I was the one who suggested we use the Arbites' assistance as motivation. I do not regret it, and in time you will understand."

Samias didn't reply. He turned and left without another word.

As much as it pained him and as much as he didn't want to accept it, he already did.

.*.*.*.

It had taken several hours for Samias to even approach sleep, and woke up almost screaming barely half of one later, images of his friends drenched in crimson dancing beneath his eyelids and the blood of those he had lost fresh on his hands.

He had resolved to stay awake but still try to rest after that, before slowly succumbing to fatigue and entering a fitful but deep slumber until a point the chronometer on his bedside table twelve hours after he'd originally buried himself beneath the covers.

"Breakfast" had of course come with questioning from Michael and Valeria, whose darkened eyes attested to a rest as fruitless as his own. Samias had kept his rendition of the events brief, trying not to paint Aurelius in too much of a negative light – the two already most likely hated what the boy represented much as he had.

It was clear from the lack of any of the Inquisitor's retinue and the fact that he had been permitted to sleep for so long that they weren't required at the current moment, so once he had his fill of his friends (who both wanted to go back to sleep) he decided to do a bit of exploration since he was in a better mood.

And that was where he had randomly happened upon Aurelius for the second time, as if he was somehow drawn to the location of the boy.

Passing through some regions of the ship straying slightly away from the central region, still renovated to a degree more than the very functional path from the hangar, Samias had slid through a small space in a door which had seemed to have jammed in its opening mechanism before crawling under swaying wires hanging down from a low-ceiling passageway ahead of him.

His interest had been piqued by what the map had informed him was an out of use Observatorium, with another located not too far from the Sanctum. It could be a good place to collect his thoughts without the chance of running into anyone else. Someone smarter might have given up at the broken door, but then Samias had never prided himself on his brains (even if maybe he should).

He emerged into a small space furnished with dusty, faded fabrics gazing out into the void itself. Samias stared through the reinforced window at the darkness beyond, distant, twinkling lights making his heart stutter with wonder even as the sheer blackness swallowing up the space between them made him feel insignificant.

He turned, surveying his surroundings. To the other side of him was a sealed off location which probably would have been space for those observing the stars but was now a wall, making the space between it and the vast window about one and a half times his armspan – cosy, but not claustrophobic.

And at the end of this small, unused passage was Aurelius, nestled comfortably between the window to the void and the wall behind him which wasn't part of the Observatorium's original structure. He appeared so peaceful, staring out into the darkness beyond the ship with his own darkness visibly saturating the recycled air around him that Samias didn't want to bother him.

He needed to, though, if things were ever going to become right between them.

Samias coughed, quietly, enough to have Aurelius snap his head up to him, his gaze instantly assuming its usual guarded, empty annoyance, shoulders tensing and relaxation dissolving from his skinny form.

The blonde flinched as Samias stepped forwards. Internally, Samias cursed. _Well, you can certainly elicit reactions from him now, although they aren't really the ones you were hoping for._

He didn't say anything, nor made any moves to reduce the intensity of his Pariah aura, perhaps hoping that the shimmering void would act as a barrier between them and deter Samias from approaching.

"What do you want?" Aurelius asked with a mix of irritation and barely perceptible fear when it became clear Samias wasn't going to leave. The taller steadied his breathing before stepping into the coiling blackness, feeling the painful clarity he had come to associate with the Interrogator clenching into focus, static nothingness crackling in his head.

It was simultaneously better and worse than the sensation of touching the boy when he had his collar on a higher suppression of his powers. There, it was tensed beneath his pale skin, leaping out at the touch into Samias and inciting fright and disgust in the ganger – something that had, to his shame, already resulted in violence.

It was nauseating, though he found that the more he was subjected to it the more he accustomed to the feeling. At this intensity, it was bearable, and Samias opened eyes he had reflexively shut as if that would somehow nullify the feeling. Aurelius made no moves to reduce the intensity of his aura, though his hand was on the crystal at his neck – most likely to increase it to repulse Samias if necessary.

"I just wanted to apologise," Samias near-whispered, his confidence drained into meekness at the way the blonde had already backed away from him, "Do you … Do you mind if I sit here?"

The full force of the Null field receded with an accompanying sigh from Aurelius, which Samias took as confirmation his presence would be tolerated for now. He gazed over at the smaller male, guilt blooming in his chest at how he was curled up, dejected and vulnerable – though he had no doubts that would snap into merciless readiness if Samias made a single wrong move. He sat down where he was stood, still about a metre and a half away from the blonde but not wanting to invade the boy's personal space any more than that.

A tense silence descended, Aurelius clearly waiting for him to speak now that he had permitted his solitude to be broken.

"This is gonna sound so fake, but, I am really, _truly_ sorry for how I acted, for what I did to you," Samias tried to let the words spill naturally out, not wanting to force them to sound genuine but also unwilling to adopt a monotone. He twisted his hands in his lap, gazing down at them instead of Aurelius. "I wasn't in a good state of mind, but that … doesn't excuse it. You didn't deserve any of that, I shouldn't have hurt you like I did."

"I … I should be the one apologising to you," Aurelius spoke so softly Samias nearly missed it. He glanced back over at the Interrogator, Aurelius's own icy blue eyes pinned to the ground. The ganger was quick to protest, "No, Aurelius, you shouldn't. You haven't done anything wrong."

"You weren't saying that earlier," the reply lacked anything approaching malice, but Samias still rightfully felt stung by the words. He sighed himself, watching as Aurelius tensed his hands in the fabric of his trousers, twisting and untwisting in an anxious pattern. They were pale and delicate, though the throbbing of Samias's face could attest to the fact that such didn't mean they weren't strong.

"I know. And I'm sorry for that. I shouldn't have blamed you for everything."

"Why shouldn't you? Like I said, you're not the one who should be apologising."

Samias screwed his face up in consternation. This wasn't really what he'd expected – he had anticipated sitting down, firing out an apology to little response and leaving once that was finished.

"I almost _killed_ you, Aurelius. I started a fight with you just because I was angry, shoved you against a wall when you _told_ me not to ever touch you-"

"Samias," Aurelius cut through his stream of words. He was staring out into the distant void now, an expression of genuine guilt worn on his patrician features, and that more than anything silenced the ganger. "Please … let me do this. Just let me say what I need to say."

"… Ok," he breathed out. The sincerity of the boy's words, not quite on the level of anyone else but impossible to miss, touched his heart. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, should be making sure Aurelius knew just how wrong he thought what he'd done to him was, that he wouldn't have to worry about anything like that again, but could no more do that than he could stop his heart from beating.

"I'm sorry for what happened, for lying to you and your friends," the younger gripped his knees tightly. Even though it seemed to almost pain him, Aurelius looked over at Samias, his eyes meeting the ganger's own. The blue in them didn't seem quite so cold now, even if their soulless blankness wasn't entirely erased by the emotion leaking through the walls.

"You told me yourself: you did what you had to do," Samias couldn't help himself, interjecting into the pause Aurelius had left, his words coloured with acceptance of that fact. He felt almost obligated to try and comfort the blonde, and with contact completely off the table and teasing inappropriate for the situation all that was left was attempting to verbally soothe his guilt.

"That doesn't make it right," the Interrogator pulled his eyes away. "Samias, I want you to know that I _hate_ what happened. I _hate_ what I forced you and the Fangs to go through. Please, believe me when I say that. I know what it's like … to lose people. I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

"Would you have been able to infiltrate the Red Eye base if we hadn't provided a distraction?" the Samias of only a few hours ago would have been disgusted with what he was saying. He could scarcely believe it himself, but as much as he despised it and himself for it he understood why the Inquisition had acted as it had.

"No," the younger of the two seemed almost defeated, shrinking in on himself and bringing his knees up to his chest.

"And we would never have agreed to help you if you had told us the truth. So, as much as I don't like it – You did the right thing," Samias was convincing himself as much as he was Aurelius.

"There should have been another way. We should have tried to find one. We – _I_ – threw away the lives of your friends for our mission," Aurelius argued back, though his voice was a mix of exasperation and sorrow.

"And I'm telling you that I understand why you did it," Samias could have spat the words with anger. He was sure he would be able to find some if he searched, but right now he kept them level.

"Why are you forgiving me so easily?" the blonde speared him with an almost incredulous look, self-loathing that Sam suddenly wanted nothing more than to erase prevalent in those icy orbs.

"Yeah, bet that seems like a change after last night," he rubbed the back of his head in mild abashment, before forging on, "It's because I can tell you mean what you've just said – that if there was another way to get in the stronghold without using us as bait you would have done so. I know you well enough by now to work that out."

"You don't know anything about me."

Samias shifted, bringing one leg upright so that he could rest his arm on his knee. "Maybe. But what do you want me to act like? I tried anger already; it doesn't help. Would you rather I was still raging at you, blaming you for everything? Would that make the guilty part of you feel more justified?"

Aurelius gave a small nod.

"Well tough. I forgive you. I don't blame you for what happened to my friends," Samias infused each word with as much determination as he could muster, his throat raw as he fought tears. To do otherwise would allow the grief eating away at him from within to surge into ascendance once again. "And I'm sorry for getting into a fight with you and … and hurting you, like I did."

"I'd do it again, if I had to. But I never wanted you to suffer," Samias eyed the smaller for a few seconds, amazed that Aurelius was showing this much emotion, steel creeping into a voice still coloured by regret. It was still less than any _normal_ person, yet it was very plain if one knew where to look. It made Samias … feel better, slightly, to know that Aurelius felt such a way – that he felt at all.

"I know."

Samias wondered if he did, truly. The words felt right, and believing in them was so easy. But knowing his friends died for a good cause didn't make their loss any easier to stomach.

Aurelius didn't reply, silence falling once more. This time, it wasn't quite so uncomfortable, though it would still be a stretch to call it companionable. Samias would be lying if he said he didn't feel improved, and turned away from the blonde when he figured his eyes had lingered for long enough.

He had to try to put on a positive front. He'd realised that holding onto his misery so tightly it filled every inch of him with a violent rage wasn't going to help him overcome any of it. Squeezing his hands around Aurelius's throat with as much force as he had in him hadn't solved a thing, had only helped him destroy someone else as much as all of the anguish inside him was destroying himself.

"I should go," Aurelius murmured, rising. "I need to help with analysing the evidence and leads we found, plan our next move."

"I'm going to stay here for a bit," Samias wasn't sure the other cared what he did, but responded nonetheless. He stood himself and flattened himself against the sealed edge of the Observatorium to allow Aurelius to pass.

The boy sat once the aura had dissipated, staring out into the vast expanse of space and ruminating on how much his life had irrevocably changed in the span of a few days.

"Samias?" the addressed jerked his head round, eyes finding Aurelius gazing back at him, stood on the cusp of the exit. A flicker of something more danced behind that blue stare, like half-formed emotions too weak to break free of the empty walls holding them in. "Thank you."

The eighteen year old wanted to brush it aside, flustered slightly by the unexpected earnestness from the other, but before he could reply the Interrogator had already departed.

.*.*.*.

Kariyen Camellia tapped impatiently on the armrest of her chair, the drumming rhythm of her fingertips on the mahogany harvested from the once-lush jungle world of Erujun III not quite drowning out the incessant droning of her courtiers.

Minor nobles all, their banal conversations ranged from gossip concerning other members of the great house to what events would be occurring in the near future. They were of diluted Camellia blood, and such sullied individuals had risen as far as they could in the hive's hierarchy – to her feet, clamouring and begging for her favour.

Kariyen pretended to listen as they shared critiques on the refurbishment of the new governor's palace at the centre of the upper hive. Usually, she did deign to encourage their vapid chatter – while most of it was nothing more than an irritation, there were enough nuggets of potentially useful information that it wasn't a complete waste of mental capacity – but today she had her mind on bigger things.

She checked the ornate chronometer in her pocket, frowning when she realised only thirty three seconds had passed since she had last done it.

Lounging in the ornamental terraces of her own palace complex stashed away out of sight in the vast swathes of upper hive territory owned by Camellia was simply to keep face. She was expecting someone – or had been for the past five minutes. It was never a smart idea to keep a noblelady waiting, but in this instance Kariyen would have to push past her own displeasure at the tardiness that she would have ruined others for.

The current subject of the conversation was beginning to irk her as one courtier she had never quite learnt the name of regaled her with what he had seen of the lavish interior of the planetary ruler's home – as if the feckless idiot thought she hadn't laid eyes upon it countless times before.

Whatever her dear sister had done with the place, she doubted it would be that different from the décor the previous incumbent – a distant uncle – had favoured.

The fact that Lyrae had been elected to the role still chafed despite having seen it coming years ago. Borne a mere three years before her sister and out of wedlock, Kariyen of course had never been considered in her parents' machinations – despite the fact that she was infinitely more capable and suited for the role, to have a bastard child ruling Karvonis IV would cause outrage amongst the many candidates within House Camellia alone.

Then again, her aptitude was another reason her parents favoured installing her idiot sister. With Lyrae on the proverbial throne, father and mother were the de facto leaders of governance whilst all the focus remained on their child, allowing them to secure the ascendance their small portion of Camellia's vast bloodline.

Kariyen would never have let herself be manipulated by "mama and papa". And that was why she was here, tucked away, their little, frivolous mistake as her sister became essentially the most powerful person in the system without the wit to do anything with that power.

Yet in the end, it made little difference who out of her House was ruling the planet. The other noble families were shrivelled, pitiful little things barely fit for their role as Camellia's playthings, and any competition they might have provided had been extinguished centuries ago.

Her sister would benefit the branch of Camellia's vast tree that held her immediate family and their allies, whilst a several times removed cousin would tip the balance towards their own, shifting power across the House but affecting little in the grand scheme of things.

Proper ambition had left Camellia long ago. Kariyen's family was content to squabble amongst itself, fighting to be at the top of the hierarchy when they were already there, securing miniscule increases in influence and wealth but too afraid to step outside of the comfort zone of ascendancy in the Karvonis system carved out generations ago.

House Camellia had become bloated on success, with no rivals to force them to aim higher since the days of her distant ancestors and revolutions which had once shook the hive. And having Lyrae as the planetary governor would simply trap them in that petty cycle once again, consigning them all to luxurious mediocrity.

The Karvonis system was a supplier of numerous polymers essential to Imperial manufacture across the subsector, and yet their world was barely known outside of Administratum lists, a footnote compared to the system-spanning influence they could wield.

With Kariyen – or someone of equal ambition, she wasn't so narcissistic to believe such a task could only be done by her – at the helm, Karvonis IV would be the richest planet in the entire subsector, or even the whole sector beyond. House Camellia's wealth would be tenfold, and perhaps their regency could spread to other, less prosperous systems, their name spoken across a hundred Imperial worlds.

Her parents and her puppet sister were content with average, with shifting the riches Camellia had already accumulated towards themselves and being the envy of Hive Enchellus's ruling class.

Kariyen had been given enough to buy her complacency from the governor's coffers, to stay out of the way of her parents' bid for the hive. That they believed mere credits would satiate her was a testament to how little they knew of the result of their premarital tryst.

Almost too caught up in her thoughts, Kariyen nearly missed the black-clad guard striding towards her from across the garden plaza. She was helmed, the Camellia flower emblazoned on her chest-piece, yet Kariyen was certain she could perceive purpose behind the faceplate's lenses.

She rose to her feet, impatiently waving away servants that scurried to attend to her, muttering an excuse to leave and pacing quickly to where the bodyguard waited in the shadow of an _Ocerios_ tree.

"You're late," she declared with an air of noble impetuousness, interrupting the soldier's attempt at a greeting.

"My apologies, Lady Kariyen," she replied respectfully, tone neutral. Kariyen knew it wasn't her fault for the delay, the woman working under the timescale of her master, yet being kept waiting irked.

"The usual place, then?" the scion of Camellia had begun walking before she had finished the question, the messenger matching her pace as they ascended the stairs towards the more private rooms of Kariyen's residence.

The woman nodded silently. Kariyen couldn't help but notice that a new soldier was sent each time. It was probably wise. It prevented Kariyen from building a rapport with the messenger, keeping all interactions clinical and pre-emptively negating any attempt she might make to convince them to her will. Kariyen had a way with words like that.

They slipped into one of Kariyen's many bedrooms, checking the surrounding area for any sign someone might be spying in on them. There was no indication that anyone ever had, but it didn't hurt to be careful – especially now there had been reports of groups in the business of prying.

The messenger laid out the contents of a briefcase on a wooden table in the corner of the fuchsia-coloured room, activating the holo-vox apparatus as Kariyen lounged in a padded chair across from her. She presented the picture of nonchalance, though inside her heart was hammering with twinned anticipation and trepidation she would never admit to.

Departing with a bow, the emissary left to stand guard outside of the room, allowing Kariyen to activate the communication device when she was ready. She did so the second the guard left – enough time had been wasted already.

A red haze appeared above the holographic as Kariyen adjusted her hair. Her business partner had insisted upon the use of visual communication and proceeded to never show their own identity, an obvious ploy designed to be unnerving, to signal superiority.

Kariyen would have doubted their veracity and capabilities had results not already been demonstrated, and she was too far in now to think of backing out.

" **Do you read me, Lady Kariyen?** "

The addressed would be lying if she said the metallic, heavily-modulated voice didn't put her on edge. She understood that such was the idea, and that her partner was taking no chances with their identity, giving Kariyen nothing to go on if she suddenly decided that betrayal was preferable to co-operation.

"You're late," she repeated pettily, examining her perfectly-manicured nails. Staring into the shifting redness of the hologram gave her a headache.

" **I know you may find this difficult to believe, but you are not my only concern, nor my greatest priority at this time.** "

Kariyen chafed, though feigned indifference.

"Strange … I seem to recall me being the primary sponsor of your endeavours, and that you wouldn't be able to progress your own plans without the facilities and funds I have provided."

" **Do not jest with me, Kariyen. I suffer you for now because it is convenient. Do not make it …** _ **inconvenient**_ **.** "

Kariyen allowed herself a small smile, mostly to supersede the sliver of fear that slithered up her spine at the thinly-veiled threat. Obviously, she'd struck a nerve with her partner there, though usually it took more verbal sparring to reach this point.

She didn't truly wish to irritate her benefactor to the point they resented having to deal with her, because they were her only chance at success. Yet being pliant and unquestioning like her sister wasn't in her nature.

"What is it that you wish to discuss? My punctuality may suggest otherwise but I am a very busy woman," Kariyen focused her gaze on the red haze for a few seconds.

" **I wish to ensure that you will be holding your end of the bargain once I have aided you in securing governance, and to further elucidate upon our strategy for doing so.** "

Her mysterious benefactor's voice was always serious, but a slight increase in its severity signalled they were done with their customary bout of exchanged insults disguised as greetings and pleasantries.

"So, you've dealt with those potential threats you identified?" she asked, leaning forwards in her seat.

" **They will not interfere with our plans. My forces in District Loriath saw to that.** "

"Oh, I noticed that. Just about every news source in the lower hive did," Kariyen replied. "I curtailed most of the circulating stories and seeded rumours that it was simply an Arbites raid. So, you're welcome."

" **Unnecessary. But I appreciate your devotion to our cause.** "

 _Our cause._ She disliked it being referred to like that. _Shared interest_ was more appropriate. Her benefactor would have her become the planetary governor and then she would devote as many resources as required to let them continue their "work" without disruption.

Kariyen had been assured that such work would not interfere with her own rise to pre-eminence, though didn't have much choice in the matter. She sincerely hoped her partner wasn't some lunatic wishing to bring about the rise of the Chaos gods or some other such heretical nonsense, though all that had been asked for from Kariyen so far were credits and access to Administratum facilities.

" **Alongside the replacement of Camellia bodyguards, I will be assigning two special operatives for you to use at your discretion. They will be the main perpetrators of our plan for the coronation celebration, and will require you to provide them with targets.** "

Kariyen nodded. The only path that would lead to her progression was that of violence. She had realised this long ago, that only with the death of those standing in her way – her family and then the immediate line of succession – would allow her to claim to role of planetary governor.

Such a feat would be impossible even with the resources at her disposal. She had slowly seeded the bodyguard retinues of her immediate family with agents of her own, but never in enough numbers or in positions of enough authority to pose any sort of feasible threat.

Until her partner had come along and managed to forge their own records and identification for over thirty new Camellia houseguards, implanting them all across the house and in the Administratum structure of Hive Enchellus.

The reach of Kariyen's benefactor seemed unparalleled, and they could have already taken the throne for themselves despite presumably not being of the Camellia if they had wished.

" **I have given the co-ordinates of their location to the emissary I sent. I would suggest not keeping them waiting, nor bringing anyone other than yourself to meet with them.** "

"You want me to meet with them _today_? _Alone_?" Kariyen's voice took on a note of incredulity. Usually, her partner didn't spring surprises like this upon her. She preferred to stay in the shadows, let her machinations be untraceable. Meeting with her benefactor's assassins was the exact opposite of that.

" **The coronation celebrations culminate in six days, Kariyen**."

"Yes, yes, I'm aware of that," the woman bristled. She was sat upright in her chair now, gripping the armrests. "I'm more concerned with the fact that you don't think just giving you a list of priority targets would be easier."

" **I am risking much in order to further your goals, my lady. I feel it is only fair that you do the same. As is often said "accountability is the perfect counterweight to ambition". I'm afraid this is all the time I have. Uphold your end of the bargain, and you will have nothing to worry about.** "

"Wait-" Kariyen yelped before the hologram fizzled into nothing, the vox broadcaster disconnecting as it did so. She snarled, her gaze spearing into the door as it opened, the messenger beginning to repack the holo-vox equipment.

This was not what she had been planning at all. If she was seen dealing with unscrupulous figures, her reputation could end up in tatters and the suspicions of her family would rise.

If their coup had failed, Kariyen wanted to be in a position where she could not be blamed for it. She supposed that was exactly where her partner didn't want her.

"The location of the operatives is very close," the woman told her with a dispassionate voice. Kariyen let her heartbeat settle, clenching her eyes shut for a moment. If it all went wrong now, there was no way she would be able to escape culpability. Even worse was the suspicion she could be being led into a trap.

She could, of course, refuse, though didn't think the soldier here was about to give her that sort of choice. A rogue thought concerning the use of the laspistol stashed away in the under-compartment of her desk flitting through her brain before she dismissed the ridiculous notion. Killing the messenger would just cause her death – her partner had already demonstrated the ability to deal with anyone they chose should they become an issue.

Nonetheless, it wouldn't hurt to be equipped, so she slid the laspistol into her belt before turning to the waiting soldier.

"Take me," she growled before she could have any more second thoughts. If this was the price to be paid for greatness, then so be it.

Outside of the temperate conditions maintained within her mansion, the air was cold, sinking into Kariyen's bones as she followed the agent of her enigmatic partner across the upper hive. They took a shadowed route, stalking through the back alleys to extravagant markets and restaurants that sample the finest delicacies of the system.

The woman handed her an umbrella as they passed beyond the perimeter of the vast dome surrounding the pinnacle of the hive which protected those at the very top from the relentless rainfall, a scowl fixing itself to the noble's features at the downpour which awaited them.

This lower tier out of District Camellia was still residence to substantial wealth, only that held by those without aristocratic blood who hadn't yet bought their way into a noble family. Kariyen repressed a sneer at the pleasure dens they passed; it was a safe assumption to make that at least one of her family members would be sampling the products of such an establishment at any given time.

She was led into an empty back-alley behind one such business, gripping the finely crafted laspistol at her belt as the creeping unease within her reached a crescendo. Besides rudimentary lessons on its usage years ago, she hadn't ever fired the gun – the responsibility of protecting her had always fallen to her guards, not that she had ever been in a situation of any threat.

Two figures, black-clad and masked, were waiting for them. Kariyen wasn't an expert on the subject, but the accentuated slackness in the posture of the two radiated a readiness of kill.

Or maybe that was just her fear playing tricks on her. They didn't seem equipped, not with anything obvious.

The taller of the two, lankier than their much bulkier comrade but still taught with muscle underneath their black clothing stepped towards her, before spiralling to his knees in an extravagant bow. The other followed suit as the first spoke, his voice gilded honey, "Ah, you must be Lady Kariyen. Allow me to introduce us. I am Pride, and this," he motioned to the second man, "Is my brother, Joy. We are at your service, my liege."

"Our performance will begin at your word," Joy exclaimed, off-world accent much more pronounced than that of his partner and his voice hitching with excitement.

Kariyen frowned, bemused. When her benefactor, always very stern and focussed, had informed her of the assassins, she had expected merciless killers, silent weapons honed into a human form. Not this.

"Our benevolent client informed us that you would be providing the guest list to our show – is this correct?" Pride asked, visor-covered face still turned towards the ground.

"Yes. It is," Kariyen replied, sending a sidelong gaze at the woman who had brought her here. Something akin to a shrug played out across her shoulders, though that could have just been her adjusting her stance slightly.

"Excellent. I have prepared us a place in which we can discuss the details of this further. Right this way please, my Lady."

Pride sprung to his feet, exaggerated motions belying a proficient killer's grace. As long as these clowns were effective, Kariyen would tolerate playing along for the time being even if it grated on her nerves.

On the bright side, she hadn't been murdered yet, suggesting her patron still intended to go ahead with their plan. If they had hired these esoteric mercenaries Kariyen wouldn't question their efficacy despite their … _dubious_ disposition.

 _Soon, House Camellia will taste greatness once again. I can't wait._

.*.*.*.

Aurelius stepped lightly through the empty halls of the _Persephone_ , rubbing his eyes tiredly with one hand as he did so.

It was night, at least, the definition of the night that they went by whilst they were on the ship. Adjusting to ship-time after spending days on a world below wasn't usually that difficult for him – they usually employed the same cycles as the planet they had just departed for the first few days and gradually switching back to the timescale of the ship (set to match that of Holy Terra), but since they would be travelling back to the surface tomorrow such seemed rather pointless.

He knew he should be sleeping, having had a fight earlier today and spending the rest of it planning and assessing the evidence they had already captured with his master and Udanya.

Yet, as usual, his mind wandered, Aurelius's customary tight control of it slipping as he tired and allowing it to run rampant when all he wanted to do was get some rest. In the dark, he couldn't stop his thoughts from being dragged back to all of the sorrow he kept in a cage during the day, back to Medlia's Sepulchre.

The old Observatorium had been discovered by him many years ago, when a younger him had finally plucked up the courage to leave his room and explore the ship outside of the watchful eye of the Inquisitor – his handler, then.

He had numerous books and dataslates in his room, but was too tired and distracted to want to read, as with every other night this had happened. So he'd decided to visit the familiar Observatorium once more, spend a night gazing out into the distant stars before exhaustion finally claimed him – the blanket cradled underneath his arm a testament to that.

It was like a second sanctuary for him, other than the four walls of his room which he had seen all too much of in the past seven years. Everyone else on the ship was aware of it, of course, yet the updated Observatorium a few corridors across from the Sanctum was much more preferable for charting a course through the stars.

Aurelius had never seen anyone else in the older one, and as such it had become something of a private hideaway, where he could escape to and no one could bother him or remind him of what he was.

Well, that was until Samias had wandered in earlier.

The boy's throat throbbed as he cast his mind to the ganger, yet his thoughts weren't negative despite the violence which had raged between them. Their partial reconciliation had remained on his mind for the rest of the day, even as he had shoved it aside to concentrate on more pressing issues.

It seemed they had both suffered something of a change of heart after their fight. Aurelius had silently chafed at the Inquisitor's decision to continue working with the gangers, more so because of the forbidden guilt he had felt at their treatment of the Chrome Fangs than his dislike of having more members of the retinue to thinly veil their disgust around him.

That had progressed to actual concern for his physical wellbeing after his confrontation with Samias in the training bays. He would have made an effort to avoid the other boy for the near future if he hadn't looked so remorseful when they had talked afterwards.

Usually, the ones who hurt him didn't bother apologising. Though, then again, usually the others only hurt him with their repulsed gazes and repressed shudders whenever he passed, not with punches and kicks.

He was, admittedly, glad they were back on neutral terms. Aurelius couldn't say he had a strictly positive relationship with anyone in Julion's retinue, but he wouldn't have been able to function properly with the threat of impending violence if Samias had remained as understandably angry at him.

He was glad for another reason as well, a strange thing lurking at the back of his logical rationale for being pleased at the situation that he couldn't quite ascertain before it slipped out of his fingers.

Aurelius brushed it aside. He was just tired, overthinking everything as he was wont to do. His mind was forcing positivity upon Samias to distract from the far darker thoughts baying for his attention.

He slipped through the door to the Observatorium, crawling underneath the wires until he made his way into the room. Staring into space often managed to relax him in times of stress, beholding the near-infinite domain of the Imperium making him feel like a cog in a vast machine working for the good of mankind – needed, _wanted,_ but small and without the weight of the world and his condition on his shoulders all the same.

Aurelius was surprised to see that he wasn't alone. There, emotive green eyes fixed on the majesty of the twinkling void, was Samias, sat peacefully in front of the observation window, long legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned on the sealed off section behind.

He considered leaving. Samias hadn't seen him yet, so he could quietly retreat back the way he had come and leave the other male to his silent contemplation. Aurelius didn't need the Observatorium, his room would suffice as a place of solitude, whereas Samias clearly required the time alone to unwind and recover from his recent trauma.

And yet … a part of him begged him to stay, begged him not to go back and let his bloody memories have their way with him. Samias wouldn't mind, and perhaps some company wouldn't be such a bad thing.

 _Wait, what are you thinking? You can't stay here. You're a Pariah, idiot. No one wants you tainting the air around them._

Caught in his indecision, Aurelius let his eyes linger too long on Samias's relaxed form. The ganger must have noticed his presence, gaze flicking up to meet his own and what almost looked to be a small smile playing on his lips.

"Oh. Hey," he waved, handsome face open and welcoming as the surprise on it faded as soon as it had arrived, "Couldn't sleep either?"

Aurelius shook his head, subconsciously curling into himself in an effort to look smaller, feeling exposed. Samias grinned, motioning next to him, still apologetic eyes seeming to say _"it's alright, you can sit down."_

"Bad dream?" he asked as Aurelius meekly stepped to the middle of the row, wishing he could throw away the blanket without Samias seeing it.

"I don't dream," the Interrogator replied blankly. It was true. Dreams were the product of an overreactive imagination combined with the soul's infinitesimal connection to the warp. Lacking the latter, all Aurelius could do was remember – in excruciating detail.

Samias actually laughed as he sat down. It was the first positive sound Aurelius had heard from him in a while. Not that he was keeping track.

To say that this was someone who had, less than a day ago, strangled him to the edge of consciousness, Aurelius didn't feel that uncomfortable being nearby him, not this time anyway.

"What?" he muttered, a streak of petty annoyance at being laughed at in his voice. The boy's chuckles subsided as he spoke a response, "Of course you don't."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing. Forget I said anything," the ganger rubbed the back of his head. Aurelius hadn't ever seen him do that when interacting with anyone else, and wondered if his Animus was on too low a suppression setting and causing him discomfort.

"So … you come here often?" Samias was the picture of nonchalance, his eyes back on the large portal as they took in the stars. Aurelius followed them, trying not to let the part of him insisting he was making a mistake distract him, "Yeah. I have been for years."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to intrude on your personal space," Samias quickly apologised, bringing his legs back up and beginning to rise, "I'll leave you to it."

"No!" Aurelius exclaimed, perhaps too forcefully. Reigning in the strange emotion that had surged up and cursing inwardly at his tiredness causing him to act oddly, he repeated the word in a more level tone, "No. It's alright. You can stay. If you want to, of course."

"Oh. Ok," Samias slumped back down and stretched out again, his words not indicating he thought the blonde was being weird, "Sure."

 _Damnit, Aurelius, what was that? That was your chance to be alone._

A silence fell, Aurelius too nervous about doing something potentially embarrassing again and too wrapped up in his own head to speak.

"I've never seen the stars before," Samias was the one to break it, breathing out the words with wonderment dancing in both them and his eyes. "Back down there, the sky's too polluted to make them out at night. They're … beautiful. And there's so many. Not really like how I imagined."

That … made sense. Aurelius had seen the galaxy from a hundred different angles, both from the Observatorium window and from the worlds he had visited in his service to the Emperor. The majesty of the stars was never lost on him, but he was far more interested in what they represented.

He couldn't help but wear a small smile at the sheer awe on the boy's shadowed features. Samias obviously hadn't been paying much attention to them when they had talked in here before.

A sudden thought made its way into Aurelius's head.

"Would you like to see them closer up?" he asked, sucking in a short breath when Samias's ocean eyes fixed him in their expressive sights once again.

"What do you mean?" The boy's surprise wasn't unexpected considering his upbringing, but it still made Aurelius unable to suppress the slight curl of his mouth into a smile. Evidently Samias hadn't considered that the Observatorium's purpose could be anything other that staring at the stars with the naked eye, enraptured as he was in their distant twinkles.

"Move over," the blonde quietly ordered, waiting for Samias to shift a couple of feet to the left. Ideally, he would have preferred the taller to move more, but didn't feel like commanding him to go further.

Aurelius entered the space Samias had vacated, the other teenager almost touching him at his current proximity. Carefully, ensuring that there would be no accidental contact between him and Samias, Aurelius reached out to a panel which had been in front of Samias, almost blushing as he did so at the closeness of the other. To his credit, Samias remained almost perfectly still, only his relaxed breaths shifting his chest as he watched Aurelius.

It was strange that he automatically took such care in making certain he wouldn't even brush against the bigger male when they had plenty of times already during their confrontation. The Interrogator supposed it was because he could barely reconcile the fierce, violent Samias of a day ago with the serene, welcoming boy he was sat next to now. Then again, it probably wasn't a stretch to say his Null aura had exacerbated the ganger's desire to inflict harm, and he just hoped that it was at a tolerable level for Samias now.

Aurelius pressed the activation switch on the panel, light springing into life on the board and dancing beneath his fingertips. After a moment's delay, holographic illumination unfurled on the observation window, blue lines expanding across the vista and encircling each visible star.

"Woah!" Samias exclaimed, the amazement in his tone making Aurelius glad he had stayed so that he could share this with the Chrome Fang.

He flicked a few keys and drifted slender fingers across the control board, the stars that they could see shifting to be replaced by more – those that would have been just out of view in their natural perspective.

"The Observatorium was built for mapping routes across the galaxy and studying nearby systems in detail," Aurelius explained to fill the silence, slowly expanding his hand as the holograms on the window zoomed out, hundreds of distant stars growing to thousands of pinpricks, "A lot of the information in this one is outdated or incomplete, which is why the second one was constructed with easily modifiable archives. But personally, I don't think it has quite the same effect in a windowless room."

Samias nodded, though the other could tell he wasn't paying too much attention to the specifics, murmuring, "That's so cool. I should show Mikey this; he loves this sort of stuff."

Aurelius stiffened as he processed the words, forcing himself to relax when he realised he'd had a reaction. It was perfectly logical that Samias's first thoughts at seeing the display would be of one of his closest friends, and yet …

Aurelius was showing it to him, not to Michael, or anyone else. He hadn't ever seen someone else in the old planetarium before, nor felt the desire to reveal the discovery that it still had power.

"Though … I kind of like it just being us," Samias must have noticed him, yet his words were so soft and sincere that the blonde instantly discarded what he had just felt.

"Not-not in a weird way though!" the ganger laughed somewhat awkwardly, though Aurelius paid it no mind. Samias's embarrassment at his choice words barely penetrated the warm glow the Interrogator felt inside of him, lighting the darkness within for a moment and leaving strange comfort in its wake.

He wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so let it slide.

Glad that he was leaning over the control panel so that Samias couldn't see the small blush spreading over his pale features, made even more evident by the backglow of the holo-illumination, Aurelius gradually expanded the image until it became a representation of the entire galaxy, a mostly-accurate depiction of the Imperium of Mankind contained within a single hologram.

"So, what would you like to see?" he asked, turning back to Samias with a flicker of anxiousness in his chest.

 _Why am I so on edge? What are these emotions?_ Aurelius was confused. His mental profile of Samias was tangled, muddled between the boy who had constantly pressed forwards with attempting to interact with him and the boy he thought might have squeezed his life from him.

 _That must be it. I'm still affected by our fight. Once I get over that, I'll be in control again._ As much as he tried to rationalise it, the second he met Samias's eyes any attempts at quashing the emotions shifting beneath the surface was abandoned.

"Where are you from, Aurelius?" he inquired, eyes earnest and filled with the reflection of the galaxy glowing in front of him. But Samias wasn't looking at that. He was looking at _him._

 _You have to ruin everything, don't you? Even the majesty of the galaxy isn't enough to distract from you, your Pariah nature dragging everything down, blighting everything around you-_

"Is that alright? Sorry if I'm prying," Samias mumbled, before his voice switched to concerned, "Is everything ok?"

Aurelius turned back to the Observatorium window, registering that he had been asked several questions and electing to ignore the last. "Yeah. That's fine. I'll get it up."

He located the star of his home system effortlessly, having done so countless time prior. Located in the same sector as Karvonis IV and yet still incredibly distant, Aurelius's world, the second in the system of seven, flashed into view.

"There we are. Verelion," he spoke, gazing at the planet as a series of images and an informational overview of the world appeared either side of the blue-green sphere. "The crown jewel of the Verelion sector, which this system is part of."

"Wow," Samias's voice betrayed a little impressment as the two took in the sight of an ornate processional bridge flanked by vast golden statues of Imperial heroes – the _Champion's_ _Walkway_ – in the main hive, massive cathedrals dedicated to the Twin Saints Solaria and Stellaria and the God-Emperor, sunny vistas of rolling grasslands draped in light from the system's twin stars (sharing the names of the saints).

"I don't remember it ever raining for more than a few hours, unlike here," Aurelius's words were infused with more than a hint of pride. He wasn't as impressed by the magnificence of his home world ever since the void took hold of him, but he would be lying if he said he didn't experience some vestigial feelings of satisfaction knowing he was a son of Verelion.

"It's certainly something," Samias replied, though there was a slight twinge of defensiveness and teasing in his tone as he continued, "Heh. I knew you would have come from somewhere posh, your accent gives it away."

"Excuse me?" the Interrogator was slightly taken aback. He'd always considered his voice to be refined and clear but lacking any sort of accent, usually perfect in enunciation and oration when he wasn't muttering.

"You just kind of remind me of people I've heard from upper hive," Samias mumbled as Aurelius turned to look at him, his playful composure dissolving into something more flustered, "It's not a bad thing."

Aurelius tried to force his gaze to soften, staring anywhere but Samias's face yet still in his general direction. He didn't really disagree with the boy's assessment, and didn't want to ruin the mood with his inability to act properly in a conversation.

"I'll take your word for it," he murmured, unsure of what else to say and stifling a tired yawn. Luckily, Samias came to his rescue before an awkward silence fell, the ganger's relaxed tone filled with a sort of casual curiosity Aurelius wasn't sure he'd ever been subjected to even if he had witnessed it in conversations held by others.

"So did the Inquisitor pick you up from there?" Aurelius couldn't fathom why Samias was so interested in his past, but it did give them a topic to discuss – and he supposed someone wanting to know more about him wasn't so bad.

"No. As is tradition for the sons and daughters of prominent figures on Verelion, my brother and I were inducted onto the Schola Progenium on the moon of Argiapa Minoris when I was five," the blonde explained, altering the view to the adjacent system and the barren planet the urbanised moon in question orbited. It seemed so close on the Observatorium screen, yet the slight ache of childlike longing which still slept inside of him attested to the falseness of that.

He leaned backwards after doing so, mere inches from where Samias was lounged, halting a tremor of nervousness that screamed at him to back away, that he would be causing the taller boy pain and inciting revulsion by doing this.

"It's an honour usually reserved for orphans of the Imperial elite, but Verelion works differently. I don't really remember why we were sent there," Aurelius admitted. The memories swirled within him, something that he would usually quell. With Samias beside him, occasionally interspersing with a thoughtful nod or encouraging question, Aurelius found that he could easily share them.

.*.*.*.

 _"We are concerned with the future. The victory of mankind depends on those who lead and those who serve. That responsibility is ours; that future is ours to bring to pass."_

— _Abbot Bernar Skrayling, Maccabeus Quintus Schola Progenium_

 _The ten year old sat huddled in the corner of a detention cell. The lumen strips which would illuminate the bare room with a harsh white light were active, yet only darkness reigned._

 _It wasn't the darkness of night, the absence of the sun's beneficence or the shadows cast in its wake, but the essence of the void itself, an all-consuming tenebrosity that drowned all in its nothingness. It strained against the walls of the cell, seeping through the steel bars in pools of empty blackness that snuffed out any light in its path._

 _And it was coming from him._

 _Aurelius hadn't ever committed a transgression severe enough to land him in a detention cell as punishment before. While others in the academy wilfully tested the limits of the strict laws laid out by the Drill Abbots and the patience of their mentors, Aurelius had always been dutiful and obedient, questioning only if he truly did not understand instead of to annoy._

 _It had all happened so quickly, spiralling out of control. Aurelius and his partner Olenn had been embroiled in one of the many trials prior to the Progenium's internal Selection Day – where the youths would be streamlined from their original classes and assigned to a more specific domain of teaching to prepare them for their service to the Emperor._

 _The trial was a gruelling sprint through a fortified and trapped emplacement meant to weed out those who would be unsuited for military prospects, testing the candidates' endurance, wits and ability to work in a pair as well as pitting them against other pairs._

 _Though service to the Imperium as a result of their harsh tutelage need not be military in nature, none of the Schola wished to fail any of the trials. To do so would be tantamount to consigning themselves to banality, and many who had failed already had not been seen by their brethren since._

" _Excel in all tenets of your duty to the Emperor, and those which you shine most brightly in will bring themselves to the fore," the Abbot Reja had told the youngsters, "Fail, and that stain will eclipse success."_

 _After navigating through a maze that slowly sealed itself shut and escaping another pair of students that had decided to take a more direct route in eliminating their competition, Aurelius and Olenn had wanted to take brief respite in a ruined building along the trial course._

 _That had been a mistake. With a whirr of mechanised limbs, a set of sparring automatons had set upon them – and at a much greater level of aggression than the two ten year olds were accustomed to the few times they had fought against them instead of another Schola._

 _Aurelius had managed to hold his own, but Olenn had faltered. Beset by two relentless machines, the boy had screamed in panic and pain, light streaking from his eyes and arcs of unnatural, coruscating energies forming a corona around his head._

 _It must have been a psychic awakening of some sort, latent powers that Olenn had within him unleashed in his trauma. And yet the unearthly power crackling around Aurelius had triggered something even worse from the blonde._

 _Blackness had billowed forth from his limbs, blanketing everything around him and effortlessly snuffing out the brief surge of energy from Olenn. Aurelius had stood perfectly still, darkness choking every psychic imperfection from the air as he felt the emotions slowly stripped from his mind._

 _The machines were instantly deactivated, Olenn writhing and howling on the floor and Aurelius unable to process the endless void opening up inside of his head._

 _Numbly, the boy had been taken from the course by hands that didn't linger for long, orders and questions shouted at him ringing around in his head so loudly he could barely tell them apart._

 _Other students in his path had clutched their skulls, running howling with panic as he wished he could reach out and assure them he wouldn't hurt them (even if such would be a lie)._

 _He had regained a semblance of control some time after entering the cell, and that was when he began to truly realise that the darkness was still pouring out of him._

 _Aurelius had cried then, inky, black tears streaming down his cheeks as he beheld the void twisting around him, unnatural fear and blankness warring for dominance in the young boy's distraught mind._

" _The Emperor is my light. Through Him, I stand firm in the face of evil. The Emperor is my shield. Through Him, I protect mankind from its foes," he had repeated, over and over and over, in an attempt to gain some control over the darkness spilling forth._

 _He had managed to somehow curtail its advance, limiting it to his relative vicinity, but not remove it completely. Aurelius had huddled into a foetal ball, hoping that would help contain the spread of the nothingness._

I'm a monster. A freak. They've put me in here until they can decide how to kill me.

 _Aurelius had managed to stop sobbing, reinstating the control over fear that had been driven into him over the five years he had been at the academy. The child inside of him wailed for comfort, but the devoted servant accepted his fate._

 _Hours passed, though how many he couldn't tell. Aurelius didn't sleep even as exhaustion nipped at his limbs, too scared to break the limited control he had gained over his dark awakening._

 _Even as Null energies flooded his mind, his emotions still reigned, the childlike fear of the dark and the fear of what had happened to him – what was still changing within him._

 _A face suddenly appeared in front of the cell's bars, handsome and pale, twisted with urgency and a primal terror that shone through determined blue eyes._

" _Lucas!" the boy abruptly sat up, surprise and hope pounding in his chest at the sight of his older brother._

 _At sixteen solar years of age, Lucas was a tall, lean boy beginning to evolve from a wiry, slender state into a more muscular form as a result of the Schola's relentless training regimes. His hair was blonde like his brother's, though a darker, more metallic shade than Aurelius's brighter gold._

 _Those inducted into the Schola Progenium were usually encouraged to forget their pasts, especially if said families had been slaughtered on the ruined worlds many orphan students came from, in order to embrace their peers as a new family._

 _An exception was made for the fraternity of siblings, which was kept and fostered within the academy halls – tightly knit bonds between students would be beneficial in service to the Imperium, and it would be fruitless to neglect those already in place._

 _The two shared a room, had done from the very first day at the Progenium facility despite their difference of six years in age. Other pairs of siblings had been permitted the same privilege. Lucas must have come for him when he hadn't shown up for their mealtime, or must have heard something from the other students._

 _The addressed smiled in a way that Aurelius, even at his tender age, could tell was forced, "That's me."_

" _What are you doing? You shouldn't be here," Aurelius longed to run up to the edge of the cell and reach out to his big brother, but stayed still. His shadow, as if in response to the boy's desires, enveloped the point where Lucas was stood, coiling around the youth as he stiffened and his face twisted in pain._

No! Get away from him! Do _not_ touch him! _Aurelius tried desperately to corral the blackness emanating from him, yet it didn't listen, holding his sibling tight as if to embrace him in the hug Aurelius always gave to his brother before he went to sleep._

" _What does it look like I'm doing? I'm busting you out of here," Lucas ground out through clenched teeth, using a key clasped tightly in his hands to unlock the cage._

" _You can't. You'll be expelled," the younger couldn't hold back a plaintive sob, tears threatening to cascade down his face again, "You need to go away. Give back the keys to whoever you took them from."_

 _Lucas quietly opened the metal door, his expression severe and angry, cut so clearly across his face in the empty dark._

" _Like hell I'm doing that. I don't know what's happened to you, Aure, but I'm not about to leave you here whilst the Abbots decide how to deal with you. Besides, I knocked out the Warden. I'm in deep shit already."_

" _Go away. I don't want you to get in trouble," Aurelius whimpered, though stronger than his desire for Lucas not to be punished for his flagrant disregard for Schola rules was his wish that the older boy wouldn't be hurt by the void in him. He shrank away from his brother, a barrier of black nothing pooling around him._

" _Aurelius," Lucas was using his stern voice now. He never called Aurelius by his full name (complaining that it was too long – "if two syllables is enough for me then it's enough for you too"). Naturally, that got the boy's attention, peeking up at the elder stood in the entrance to the cell, "Please, listen to me. You don't want me to be punished, I understand. But what sort of a brother would I be if I abandoned you here? They could kick you out, or worse. I'm getting you out, and then we're leaving together."_

 _The sixteen year old made to come closer, but shuddered back with a muffled grunt. Though the void was already intense where he was stood, its power increased almost exponentially towards his little brother._

" _Just go away. I don't want to hurt you," Aurelius wasn't able to stop himself from crying again. He'd always found it difficult to connect with others, but with those he managed to he felt powerful empathy for. And there was no stronger connection than that he had with Lucas._

 _He knew that it was causing Lucas distress to be here, to be so close to him, and it hurt him even more than being thrown into isolation and fear had._

" _You'd never hurt me, little bro. You're too kind to ever do that."_

 _There was reassuring affection in Lucas's strained tone, and it tugged at Aurelius's want for comfort in the wake of this trauma. It took every inch of his willpower not to throw himself into his big brother's arms, as he whispered despondently, "You don't understand. I … I can't control it."_

" _I'm … not … leaving … without … you," Lucas snarled, bracing himself against the darkness as if by sheer physical determination and strength of will he could push it aside._

 _Aurelius pulled himself into a curl again, bawling like an infant despite his age. It would have earned him a clap round the head and a summary order of fifty press-ups if a Drill Abbot had been nearby, and yet he couldn't halt his tears as if even they were desperate to flee from him. Darkness surged round him, winds of black so painfully real they cut through even thoughts._

 _A hand clasped round his small arm, and he opened his eyes, the swirls of nothingness abating into more gentle wisps of Null force._

" _Told you, didn't I?" Lucas's face creased with a smile even as it strained with horror and exertion. Both of them were trembling, Aurelius through his sadness and his brother through the instinctual urge to flee screaming. "You'd never hurt me."_

" _Lucas …" his brother's hand didn't move even as it shook, wrapped so tightly round his arm Aurelius could feel his circulation being cut off – as if Lucas was afraid that if he would inadvertently let go and be pushed away if he put anything less than the full force of his grip into it. Despite that, it was a calming, grounding presence, warm and protective, everything he had come to associate with his older brother._

 _Lucas's face reflected his suffering, the effort of maintaining his composure in front of his little sibling plain to see. But Lucas was stubborn, and never backed down from a challenge, not even when it was the right thing to do._

 _As much as he knew it was selfish, Aurelius was glad his brother had come for him, glad that he wouldn't have to be alone anymore._

" _I'm fine. We need to go," the teenager shifted the position of his hand, sliding it down to clasp Aurelius's own smaller one and gently pulling him to his feet, all severe and serious again. Lucas was relentless, single-minded in achievement of his goals – a fact that had often earned him praise from his teachers._

 _Aurelius tried to emulate his brother, tried to apply the older's perseverance and dogged determination to his own trials, even as Lucas fondly teased him for it._

 _Still holding onto his younger brother's hand, Lucas quickly left the cell, stalking his way through the empty detention block with Aurelius following dutifully at his heels._

 _It had been a long time since they had held hands like this, with little Aurelius trotting at his brother's side. Back on Verelion, what limited memories Aurelius had of the place told him Lucas had had no qualms about clasping onto his sibling's hand and dragging him wherever they went._

 _Since coming to the Schola Progenium, Lucas had significantly reduced the amount he would do it in the early years, only for short spans of time if a younger Aurelius was being stubborn and he wasn't in the mood to carry or yell at him._

 _Later, Aurelius had outgrown it, and his brother had stopped. Yet he would be lying if the familiar feeling wasn't welcome after all these years and in this time of darkness and stress._

" _We'll sneak onto one of the cargo transporters bringing stuff from Hive Carlai. Then we'll find a ship going to Verelion, and go back to mum and dad," Lucas told him as they scampered through the empty hallways of the facility, void emptiness shrouding paintings of Imperial Saints and maxims etched in gold fixed on the stone walls._

 _Aurelius had many questions – how they'd be able to get onto a transporter without being noticed, how they would travel through the hive without any money, and who would accept someone like him in his current state aboard a ship bound for Verelion's system – but didn't voice them to his brother._

 _Incessant questioning was a catalyst for censure from a Drill Abbot, so usually Lucas had been subjected to the full bombardment of his brother's inquisitive mind whether he liked it or not. But right now, he was content to just trust his older brother and let him take charge._

" _Okay," he signalled his assent not because his brother needed it from him, but to try and reassure them both. Lucas was risking everything aiding Aurelius, although he would never be convinced to do otherwise, and it was the least the younger could do to try and assuage his own fears. He added, after a moment of silence, "Thank you for coming for me."_

" _Don't sweat it."_

 _If Lucas was regretting breaking a multitude of academy laws and embarking upon a journey that could ruin both of their futures, the sixteen year old showed no discernible sign. The brothers hurriedly but quietly stalked through the silent corridors, the lack of students suggesting it was well into the night – and the curfew that came with it._

 _All of the Progena were expected to spend the night hours in either reflective study, prayer or sleep – which had, admittedly, been somewhat difficult for the brothers to manage at first, though now they were both thoughtful students dedicated to their studies._

 _Aurelius always followed the shining example Lucas had set for him, and even if he was of a more introspective bent to his charismatic brother it didn't stop him applying himself in all aspects of their curriculum. He'd often been told that he was very easy to trust. He wondered if that would happen anymore, if the darkness which had taken roost inside of him didn't disperse._

 _Lucas had been this way for as long as he could remember – coming through for him when it counted and expecting nothing, not even thanks, in return._

" _I mean it. You didn't have to," the ten year old murmured, trying not to think of what might have happened to him had he been left in the cell._

 _Before Lucas could reply, a strong, booming voice halted them in their tracks, "Lucas and Aurelius Glorina, stop where you are immediately."_

 _Shocked, Lucas froze for only a second as he took in who had spoken, before dragging his little brother's small form behind him and backing up against a wall._

" _I won't let you take him back there," the sixteen year old growled, using himself as a shield for Aurelius in what would almost certainly be a fruitless act of defiance. The younger peeked out from behind his older sibling, sucking in a scared breath at who had spoken to them._

 _Caligulon Martas, Abbot Prime and the head of the entire facility stood across from them, stern and regal in equal amounts and flanked by newly trained Tempestus Scions levelling their hellrifles at the boys._

 _Lucas had begun official training for induction into the Tempestus Militarum's elite ranks, a fact that whilst the boy didn't boast about made him veritably glow with pride – and thus Aurelius was also proud of his older brother. He himself had only begun trials for a preliminary selection day which would inform the one held five years later, and wasn't entirely sure where his strengths lay._

 _Now all of that was to be thrown away because of the darkness that had burst from within him that he didn't even understand, tarnishing both him and his older brother who had discarded his duties for familial love._

 _Behind them stood the Warden which Lucas must have dispatched earlier glowering at the offending youths, and a tall figure Aurelius didn't recognise clad in a tight-fitting black bodyglove that the others seemed to give a wide berth._

 _Even though he'd never seen the famed Abbot Prime so close before the boy's eyes were drawn to the unknown woman. Her face was non-descript, so utterly unrecognisable that Aurelius got the impression he would forget what it looked like should he look away, and she radiated an unsettling calm in the tense situation._

 _She stared back at Aurelius, dark eyes locking with the boy's own impassively._

 _Caligulon closed his fist, the Tempestus Scions surrounding the pinned students in a semi-circle at equidistant points along its radius, before they cringed back from the aura of blackness drenching the area around Aurelius._

" _Lucas Glorina. You are in violation of four precepts: Remaining in the Schola halls in the period of curfew without a permit; assaulting Schola staff; entering areas forbidden to students and removing students from detention cells," the Abbot Prime incanted, pointedly ignoring the lapse in discipline from his contingent which would have seen them punished in another circumstance. "Aurelius Glorina. You are in violation of two precepts: Remaining in the Schola halls in the period of curfew without a permit and exiting a detention cell without authorisation from a member of Schola staff."_

 _The man, shorter than Lucas by several inches but several times more imposing (even if Lucas could be scary when he was rarely angry at his little brother), tapped his golden hammer against his palm before continuing, "As I'm certain you can imagine, the punishment for these combined transgressions is extremely severe. However, in light of the … curious event that we find ourselves in, I will offer you an ultimatum, Lucas. Leave Aurelius in our care, and I will issue you the standard penalty for a minor transgression."_

" _Not a chance, sir," the older of the brothers snarled in a way that was somehow fiercely protective and yet respectful. If Aurelius hadn't been paralysed by fear, he would have begged Lucas to take the man's unheard of offer of mercy and leave him to whatever fate they had in store for him._

 _They couldn't fight their way out. It was impossible. The ten year old believed in his brother more than anyone else he had ever known, but the task would be too much even for him. He didn't know why Lucas was doing this, would have questioned what his defiance was supposed to achieve if he wasn't deathly afraid of being left alone again._

 _Caligulon signalled to one of his men, who approached in a sudden blur of motion, swinging the butt of her high-power lasgun into Lucas's side. The adolescent cried out in pain at the blow, raising his arms to defend himself from another strike and tackling the Scion._

 _Another shot forwards and wrapped strong arms around the teenager, pulling him back as he bucked and attempted to escape the hold._

" _No! Stop!" Aurelius shouted, running forwards and barrelling into the woman advancing on Lucas as he grabbled with the second Scion, punching and kicking at the graduate's carapace armour to little effect._

 _She hissed in surprise and a sudden panic as he approached, flinching and shoving him away hard. The boy fell back against the wall, hitting his head against it with a painful cry._

" _Don't hurt him!" Lucas roared, kicking back against the man endeavouring to hold him down and launching himself at the Scion who had harmed his little brother. She cracked her gun against his head, sending the older sibling sprawling with a whimper as he crumpled to the floor. Lucas tried to stand, dazed, as the Scion pair closed in on what they considered to be the greater threat._

" _I said STOP!" Aurelius shrieked, the shadows which had been gradually intensifying around him pulsing outwards, radiating like a supernova of void darkness and washing over everything around him._

 _The Scions closest to him clutched their heads and fell to the floor sobbing and screaming for a short moment before they fell silent. Lucas followed the same way, bawling as thick tendrils of purest unlight curled round him until he was wrenched into unconsciousness._

 _The remaining circle of Tempestus troopers and the Abbot Prime also crashed to the ground, falling to their knees and crying like infants as the void surrounded them, pulsating like onyx blood from the wound that was Aurelius._

 _Aurelius stared in mute horror at the unnatural power billowing forth from him, before panic set in as he realised that Lucas was being hurt by it as well._

" _No, no, stop it! I don't want this!" he scrunched his eyes shut, willing with every inch of his mental determination for the tidal wave of darkness to rush back into him and leave his big brother alone. But the release wouldn't stop, more and more Null force pouring out of the youngster and consuming anything that reality could hold aside from itself. He opened his eyes again, crawling through the gloom of his own creation to his brother's side and shaking the bigger boy in a feeble attempt to remove the clutches of nothingness from him._

 _He cried, tears dripping like ink down his pale cheeks yet leaving no stain as they splashed onto Lucas, the older boy's face drawn tight into a rictus of agony and his breathing shallow._

" _You can't control it, can you?"_

 _Startled, Aurelius's head shot up, meeting the gaze of the strange woman. She stood perfectly still, seemingly unfazed by the pitch-black shadows swirling around her. The ten year old shook his head despairingly, his breath hitching as tortured gasps began emanating from the victims of the void._

 _One moment she was stood a few metres away from him, the next she was stood directly in front of the distraught boy, who gazed up at her with eyes hazy with tears._

" _But you want to, don't you?" she asked without emotion. Aurelius nodded this time, not wanting to waste time with this strange individual unless she could help him help his brother, shoving out a: "How can I?" between sobs._

" _I know what you are," stood next to the blonde, she was in the eye of the empty storm, but was no less affected than she had been further away, "For you and I are the same."_

 _The woman clasped onto his arm with a grip that was neither loose nor hard, and for the first time Aurelius felt the blank darkness thrumming above the surface of her bodyglove. It was a strange non-sensation – his mind registered that it should be uncomfortable, but there was nothing beyond that recognition._

" _We are Pariahs. Soulless Nulls, the antithesis of the psyker and the Warp, and carriers of a dominant Blank gene," she explained in a level tone. Despite the void's power raging around the two, it was deathly silent aside from her voice, the stilted moans of those rendered unconscious gone now._

 _Aurelius absorbed the words without comment. He had known it wasn't something psychic – as Olenn's traumatic galvanisation had been undeniable psychic in nature, and whatever had risen within Aurelius had suppressed it – but he hadn't ever heard of a Pariah before._

" _I don't have a soul?" Aurelius asked with a hint of disbelief. The other Pariah shook her head, "Not anymore. Not now your true nature has arisen."_

" _Admittedly, I've not witnessed a Pariah with quite the same raw anti-connection to the Immaterium as you, though that could be a result of your gene laying dormant until now," the woman continued, "But such power cannot go uncontrolled. The released void drains both the life and the very souls of those caught in its embrace."_

" _How do I stop it?" the boy near yelled. He found it difficult to care about any of this whilst Lucas was still being hurt because of him, especially if his brother's life was at stake._

"You _cannot. This soulless darkness is a part of you that will define every moment of your life from this point," the woman replied in what could have been a grave tone, though lacked emotion as with every one of her words. She let go of Aurelius's shoulder, before holding out her other hand in front of him. A malevolent crystal, geometrically flawless, sat in her palm, attached as a pendant to an Aquilla sigil at the centre of a collar. "This, however, can suppress it. Consider it my gift to you."_

 _The ten year old took the proffered amulet without hesitation and placed it around his neck. The void energies seemed attracted to the black gem which shone with its own unnatural, lightless glow, curling fingers around it in an imitation of their source only seconds ago. It didn't scour the shadows away – in fact it somewhat amplified them – and more panic shuddered up Aurelius's spine as he gazed back at the woman._

 _She pressed down on a metal rod which she must have equipped whilst Aurelius was distracted, and the Aquilla shaped mechanism surrounding the crystal twisted it to the left._

 _Immediately, the darkness which coated everything in soulless black flooded back into the child. Aurelius pressed his hands to his head, moaning with pain as pressure built up within it, a buzzing sound rising as the silent dark retreated into the crystal and then pressed itself in against him._

" _You will grow accustomed to the pain," the woman offered no aid as the youngster writhed for a short moment before training set in and he forced himself to push past it. He knew, instinctually, that it wasn't his Pariah nature itself affecting him – he was immune to the darkness which had debilitated all others except his fellow Null – but the pain was a by-product of having such powers limited. "We Pariahs cannot exist around ordinary men with our Null auras unrestricted."_

 _He opened his eyes again, the hallway once again bathed in cold light, and gazed down at his brother. Lucas was still unconscious, but his breathing seemed to be returning and his face was no longer screwed up so much in fear and hurt – though it wasn't at peace. Aurelius was tempted to try and awaken him quickly so that they could reattempt their escape, but quickly dismissed the ridiculous thought._

" _I believe it is time I introduced myself. I am the Director Primus of Clade Culexus," the other Pariah stated. Aurelius had anticipated that he would be getting a name from her, before he properly processed what she had just said._

"Clade _Culexus?" his young voice was coloured in disbelief. "As in-"_

" _Yes. A Clade of the Officio Assassinorum."_

 _Aurelius would have scampered back or placed himself protectively in front of Lucas had he not known there was no point – as the Director would surely be able to unleash her own darkness. He had heard of the Officio Assassinorum – some of their recruits were seeded amongst the Schola Progenium's ranks, though their identities were guarded._

 _But his studies hadn't ever mentioned a Culexus Temple. Vindicare, Eversor, Venenum, Vanus and mysterious Callidus, though nothing more than their names._

" _I came here for you. It would be a waste of your abilities to stay here. It has been agreed that I will take you and you will begin training as a Culexus assassin. You will be taught better control over your abilities and how to use them in service of the Emperor."_

 _The boy blinked. It was an awful lot of information to take in. Instant, automatic denial and rejection of her proposal thrust itself to the forefront of his mind. He didn't want to leave the Schola Progenium, be dragged away from Lucas to become a human weapon. He couldn't really remember his homeworld and his parents which he had left behind there, yet still felt homesickness despite the fact that the academy had quickly become his new home. Now that he had the crystal which subdued his newly awakened Pariah gene, he wasn't a danger anymore, right?_

 _But as he stared at his older brother as the teenager began to stir as if awakening from a fitful sleep, Aurelius realised that there was no other choice._

I can't stay here. Not with what I've become. I'll just end up hurting everyone around me. I don't know how this crystal works, how _any_ of what I am works. And I don't want Lucas to have to suffer because of me.

 _Lucas suddenly sprang to his feet, spinning round to gaze down at his little brother and reaching across to grab him. He flinched back without thinking before his hand touched Aurelius, as if forgetting what had happened to his sibling in the time he had been rendered comatose._

 _The Tempestus Scions and Abbot Prime rose less than two seconds later, the man's authoritarian voice booming out, "Now do you see why Aurelius cannot be allowed to remain free? His monstrous powers are a danger to us all."_

 _The younger blonde cast his head in shame as his brother stood protectively in front of him once again, pressing a hand to his bleeding temple. The Militarum soldiers didn't close in, their weapons trained on the siblings._

" _I will be taking the boy now, as per our agreement, Abbot Prime," the Culexus stated coldly. Caligulon glared at her, replying angrily, "Yes, please do. Get him out of my academy."_

" _Aurelius isn't going anywhere!" Lucas shouted, as if nothing had occurred between his last outburst of defiance and this one – as if his little brother hadn't just almost killed them all._

" _Lucas," Aurelius almost whispered the older's name, although it still cut off the addressed's next furious snarl. He felt a blockage at his throat, tears gathering at the edges of his eyes again, but soldiered on regardless, "They're right. I can't stay here. I have to go with her."_

" _Aure?" the sixteen year old didn't turn around in case the Scions used that as an opportunity to attack, but Aurelius could still picture his incredulous expression. "What are you talking about? Everything's fine now, isn't it?"_

" _Temporarily. This level of suppression cannot be sustained forever without killing your brother. Yet he must be taught control before I will alleviate it," the Director informed them in her usual soulless tones._

" _I don't understand."_

 _A moment of weakness. A crack in the show of strength, the first fracture in the armour of the protective guardian._

" _Your brother is a monster, a threat to every living person inside this academy. If only we could have discerned this sooner," Caligulon spat. "The Director has offered to take him. Death is the only alternative."_

" _I need to be able to control my powers," Aurelius added even as he felt something breaking inside of him. "I don't want to hurt anyone else. I've already hurt you."_

" _No, you haven't, I'm fine," Lucas blurted out. He spun to look at his brother, "See? You haven't hurt me. I'm fine, you're fine, everything's fine."_

" _Lucas," Aurelius said his brother's name with a strange mix of pleading finality, "If the Director hadn't given me this," he brushed his fingers against the crystal at his throat, "I would have killed everyone here. Including you. That's why I need to go, big brother."_

 _Lucas stared at him for a short moment, fear and defiance and love prevalent in his blue eyes, before the damn broke._

" _I can't lose you as well."_

 _Lucas's voice was so heartfelt and sorrowful that Aurelius was stunned into silence. They didn't talk much about their parents – such was heavily discouraged for those who still had living progenitors – but Aurelius knew his brother had suffered much more from their induction than he had. It was only logical. He'd been a year older than Aurelius was now at the time._

 _He didn't know what to say. He knew he should be saying something,_ anything, _to comfort his brother, but couldn't find any words nor force any out._

 _Lucas fell to his knees so that they were the same height, reaching out and gently clasping onto his brother's small cheek, his hand trembling against the soft skin. Even as his face was filled by pleading emotion, Aurelius could still see the flicker of discomfort at his brother touching a Pariah._

" _Please. I want you to stay here," Lucas's eyes were desperate and imploring, and he choked back a sob. Then another, and another, until they overwhelmed him in a cruel assault. Tears streamed down his cheeks, broken whimpers emanating from his throat as he cupped Aurelius's cheeks with both hands, crying, "Please don't go, little brother, please,_ please _."_

 _Aurelius could feel something dying within him. The spreading void flooded to replace it. He wanted to reach out, brush his brother's tears from his cheeks and hold him like Lucas was with him. Lucas had done the same so many times in the past, when young Aurelius had come to him with his woes or with bruises and wounds after a training session._

 _Yet that would only cause him more pain; the darkness would spread from his fingertips into his undeserving sibling and wrap agonisingly round his pure soul._

 _Lucas wrapped him in a hug and rested his head on Aurelius's small chest, tears drenching his shirt, squeezing him so tightly that he thought he might break, as if by simple force of strength he could stop his sibling from being plucked away from him._

" _I have to," he told him, as softly as he could manage. Any louder and they would both shatter. Leaving his brother was a horrible fate he didn't even want to think about. And yet hurting him was so incomparably worse that he had no choice._

 _Lucas had always protected him. He would do the same for his big brother, even if it meant sacrificing the time he might spend alongside him._

 _He turned his head to the Abbot Prime, forcing the emotion which would be drenching his tone to the side, "I'll go with the Director, but with one condition: you punish my brother only for a minor infraction like you said earlier."_

 _The man met his gaze stonily at first, eyes brimming with revulsion and hate, though it did soften ever so slightly. He nodded, and Aurelius felt a small rush of relief._

" _Lucas has not broken any laws prior to this point, and his devotion to your safety is commendable if misguided. I shall do as I stated prior, if you depart now."_

 _The boy nodded thankfully and respectfully back to his senior, before turning to his distraught brother once again. Lucas's sadness made Aurelius want to renege on the statements he had just made, to stay with his sibling like he always thought he was meant to._

" _You don't have to leave …" the elder stubbornly persisted, large tears rolling down his red cheeks as he sniffled, holding onto his small brother with trembling arms wrapped tightly round the boy._

" _I'll miss you, big brother," he whispered, closing his eyes and resting his chin on a broad shoulder. He could stay here forever. But that would mean ignoring how Lucas tensed instinctively at the motions, his body reacting to the touch of a Pariah even if he refused to admit it._

 _He pulled back, gently releasing himself from the crushing embrace and held Lucas's hands as they stretched out to bring him back. "I want you to be strong for me. Can you do that, Lucas?"_

 _The older of the two was too miserable to form a coherent response, but nodded in lieu of words. Aurelius was trying to do the same, knowing that if he fell into the pit of emotion grasping at his ankles their separation would be even more traumatic. He usually found it difficult to repress his own feelings should he experience this strongly when his big brother had always been a willing outlet for them, but now that Lucas was the one in need of reassurance and comfort Aurelius managed to shove them aside._

" _We'll see each other again. I promise," he murmured. He couldn't say that for certain. The galaxy was a capricious place, and if he was to become an assassin of the Culexus Temple it was likely he wouldn't. Yet it was what they both needed to hear. "I love you."_

" _I…I l-love you too," Lucas responded shakily, letting Aurelius pull away without impeding it._

 _The boy walked to the Director's side, leaving his brother on his knees. The woman motioned for them to leave, and Aurelius followed as they began to pace away._

 _He didn't look back._

.*.*.*.

"After the Director took me to her ship, we spent a few days travelling to the Mandeville point in preparation for Warp translation," the Interrogator continued quietly, his eyes lost in the Observatorium's image of the Schola Progenium moon. "Another ship hailed us before we departed. It seemed the Emperor had a different fate planned for me. Inquisitor Julion requested that I be transferred to his retinue instead of becoming an assassin."

"Have you seen your brother since?" Samias asked. Aurelius flicked his gaze up to the larger boy in surprise, having almost forgotten his presence as he recounted his memories. Embarrassed by having opened up to such a degree, he shook his head, looking away into the darkness.

He could have shared more, as he remembered that fateful night quite well. He knew, somehow, that Samias wouldn't have minded, but that was all he was willing to give for now. Recounting it in any more detail would have made the emotion already creeping out from within its void-barred cage affect him to an even greater extent.

It had been over seven years since he had seen Lucas, and he was older now than his brother when he had left him. The blonde didn't even know if the boy was alive or not.

He would like to think that he would have somehow known if anything had happened to him, but as his Pariah nature truly took hold any familial bond which might have transcended the limits of reality would have been annihilated.

It wouldn't surprise him if something had. He'd lost much more than just his brother, at any rate.

"Enough about me," he blurted out after a silence had taken hold, forcing away the memories with a change of subject, "What's your origin story, then?"

"It's not quite as glamorous as yours," Samias spoke after a moment's vacillation. Aurelius turned back to see the ganger's eyes downcast, regretting his haste in asking the question. He paused, considered the words, and offered: "You don't have to tell me." before he could convince himself to stay silent.

"No. No. It's fine," Samias gave a small grin. "You shared yours, anyway."

The taller of the two leaned back again, stretching out his arms. If Aurelius relaxed against the side himself, he would have brushed against Samias's forearm and his hand could have patted his head.

He stayed deathly still until Samias drew his right arm back with an apologetic look. Despite himself, Aurelius hadn't been about to ask him to move, though he didn't quite know why.

"Well. Guess I should start at the beginning. I was raised in Red Eye territory. My mum lived on the outskirts. My father was a Red Eye himself. Neither of them expected me … or wanted me, I guess," Samias began softly. He swallowed, looking vulnerable and lost. Aurelius cursed himself for doing this. He hadn't seen any sign of parents back in the Chrome Fang headquarters, and Samias had never mentioned them before now. Obviously something tragic had happened.

"He wasn't around often. But I always hated it when he was. He beat mum, and then me when I started sticking up for her," the boy clenched his fists, anger seeping into his once peaceful tone, "My mum loved me, when she wasn't high on Red EX. I think she took it to help her cope. She didn't have to think about my bastard father or how she was supposed to provide for both of us if she wasn't conscious."

Samias took a breath. Aurelius had already been a recipient of the boy's rage, so had to force himself not to shrink back or tense up.

"One day, when I was eight, my father came in with red in his eyes. Mum locked me in my room, and I heard him hitting her again and again. I could have broken out, but I was just …" Samias didn't finish, gripping the edges of the platform tightly, his voice tight with emotion that Aurelius could tell he forced away as he continued. "I went to check on my mum an hour after I heard him leave. She'd usually take Red EX then, and I already knew not to try talk to her before it knocked her out. This time it was different. There were about five empty syringes next to her that night, and I … I just _knew._

"I took the pistol, and my mum's pendant, and ran as far as I could. It was stupid, but I couldn't stay there until he came back. I spent a week or so alone, hunting sump rats for food, though that wasn't enough. And then the Chrome Fangs found me," he finished, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment as he relaxed his taut form. "You pretty much know the rest."

Aurelius didn't know what to say. He felt a desire to comfort Samias, but nothing his mind could conjure sounded like it would be of any use. It wouldn't have been unnatural of him to simply not attempt, to remain emotionally distant even after they had opened up a little more to one another.

It didn't help that the Chrome Fangs, the heroes of the tale, had been near-eradicated thanks to him and the Inquisitor.

"I'm sorry," he tried, as if that would somehow repair the wounds of a tragic childhood. Compared to Samias's own, his upbringing seemed significantly better, though as Samias's life would have improved over time in the company of his fellow gangers Aurelius's situation had gradually worsened – culminating in the disaster on Medlia's Sepulchre.

"It's alright. It's not your fault," the boy answered with gruffness and softness in equal measure. Aurelius didn't know much about emotions anymore, but he was versed enough to tell Samias was putting on a strong front. "Besides – that's what you – we – are here for, right? To make things better. To stop anyone else from going through the same."

Samias's words were so earnest, his eyes so full of sincerity, that Aurelius didn't have the heart to tell him no. To tell him that a societal upheaval wasn't their objective, that once they had expunged the root of the heretical corruption they would be finished here.

That the hierarchy which forced poverty on those at the lower rungs was essential for the Imperium's survival.

So instead he just nodded. Any words would have lacked conviction, and for some reason he didn't want to lie to Samias out loud.

 _I've done enough of that already._

Samias turned back to the cosmic expanse in front of them, and Aurelius mirrored the motion. Though he couldn't help but peek at the other boy, snatching glances without subjecting him to his nauseating gaze. He preferred the ganger peaceful and contemplative to angry and grieving, that was for certain.

The Interrogator quickly flicked his eyes away when Samias's own rested on him, hoping the taller hadn't been able to tell. Perhaps he shouldn't be pushing the boundaries of how he acted so soon. No matter that Samias seemed to at least tolerate and engage with his company, he was still a Pariah.

"You know, Aurelius … I'm glad we talked like this. I-I mean, it's made me feel better," Samias murmured, turning away himself. Aurelius paused for a moment, wishing words weren't suddenly sliding out of his mental grasp, causing Samias to continue – probably assuming the blonde had declined to reply.

"He. Sorry about taking up your alone time, though," he spoke jovially, though Aurelius was responding before he'd even properly considered it. "No. I mean, yeah. It's been … nice."

 _Smooth. You have a mastery of the Imperial lexicon, can speak High and Low Gothic fluently, and that's what you come out with?_

Samias seemed not to notice his inability to say something meaningful, just grinned, as if he was just happy Aurelius seemed to share some of the sentiment. Then he yawned, reminding them both that they should be sleeping at this hour.

They chatted for a few minutes after that, mostly light, limited conversation about the stars, before the taller murmured that he really did have to go to bed.

"Goodnight, Aurelius. I'll see you tomorrow," Samias smiled at him, such an open display of friendliness that Aurelius hadn't experienced for a long time, before ducking under the wires and leaving the boy to the solace he had originally sought.

"Goodnight, Samias," he whispered after the boy had left.

He stared out into the vastness of space again, each twinkling star an Imperial system brimming with the hopes, dreams and fears of billions. They were beautiful, and yet …

The stars had nothing on Samias's smile.


	9. Setting the Stage

"The evidence we have collected thus far confirms our earlier suspicions – that House Camellia must have some connection to the Enslaver threat; that their own corruption is indicative of their participation in a plot concerning the Warp-xenos," the Inquisitor began, pacing ominously through the centre of the main living quarters.

The high-rise estate they had travelled to after planetfall made the first hideout the Chrome Fangs had been introduced to seem modest in comparison. Situated in the manufactured peaks of District Palvari, the building housed a luxurious suite fit for visiting aristocratic families and an entourage of servants. There was more than enough space for the Inquisitorial group, which gave them ample room to fill tables with research notes and plans.

It was somewhat unfortunate, Samias reflected, that they wouldn't get to enjoy the pleasures of wealth for very long. No sooner had they reached their next base of operations (which had seemed abandoned but probably purchased by the Inquisitor months ago) then Julion was organising them into investigation teams to prowl the upper hive.

He didn't think lounging on the comfortable sofa he and his friends were sat upon would be appropriate at the moment either.

"Their affiliation with the Red Eye gang seems to be beyond that of convenience and the supply of the Red EX drug. Camellia's pleasure cults and the House's pervasion of all levels of governance were what originally led us to Enchellus to put the hive back on the road of the Emperor's light, though now it seems an even deeper rot than the heresy of indolence and lust has infected the upper echelons of this system."

The Inquisitor wielded his potent charisma like a weapon, cutting straight to the heart of the matter in order to galvanise his acolytes. Samias certainly did not envy those who would invoke Julion's wrath. He had a feeling the man would be unflinching and merciless in his prosecution of those who had strayed from the path of righteousness in service to the Emperor.

"We have multiple leads to pursue – the location records within the Red Eye stronghold specified exportation of their contemptible produce to, lesser aristocratic Houses that resent Camellia dominance and possible infiltration of the compromised Adeptus Arbites precinct fortress," the Inquisitor's steps took him to the central table upon which laid a holographic map of the entire upper hive set up by Maratha.

Locations of interest were pinpointed in a piercing red, and though the diagram seemed adequate enough Sam could tell that there were inaccuracies. It would be impossible to map an entire hive city, even in only superficial detail, so huge swathes of the simulation were nebulous, unknown regions. But it helped bring the scale of their task into focus.

"If I may, sir?" Aurelius, sat opposite Samias on a single armchair, spoke up quietly. The ganger spotted the flicker of nervousness that rippled just beneath the surface of the boy's indifferent expression as the gazes of everyone in the room converged upon him. It passed as soon as it had arrived, sequestered away with the rest of the blonde's emotions where they couldn't interfere with him – but still, undeniably, existing.

He'd realised, after their talk high in orbit last night, that perhaps Aurelius wasn't disdainful and aloof because he thought he was superior to the rest of them. He was just incredibly socially anxious.

It made sense to Samias – not many people would willingly subject themselves to his disconcerting presence for long – but still made him feel for the youngster. He couldn't say he understood Aurelius's situation fully, yet how he pushed others away through detached scorn because he didn't want them to be repulsed by his Pariah aura instead made a little more sense.

How Aurelius had spoken of his older brother had convinced Samias the other boy had been close to at least one other person in his life, even if that was now seven standard years ago (Samias also wasn't entirely sure why he was slightly smug about being confirmed older than Aurelius). Affection and fondness, present but easily missable if Samias hadn't been paying full attention to him, had slipped past the emotionless front and into his voice, briefly filling the guarded emptiness.

Julion nodded curtly, signalling his younger Interrogator to speak.

"I think it is paramount we investigate the site the Red EX and the Enslavers were transferred to. Though it is unlikely they still remain in that location we could still attempt to ascertain where they would be taken to next," he spoke quietly but clearly, "Or scout out a suitable position to ambush should any more transfers from the underhive occur. I also think it is important to ascertain what the material we recovered from the Red Eyes' drug laboratory means."

"If I might interject," Udanya waited until the blonde had finished, "Idris's sources mentioned a prominent gathering of nobles occurring in six days in order to celebrate the coronation of Lyrae Camellia as planetary governor at the palace in question. I believe our efforts would be better spent securing a covert way into the event and draw information from there – and following up on his research into the best Camellia members to interrogate."

Samias watched as Aurelius nodded back blankly. Whether or not the disagreement had phased the boy wasn't evident, though it did seem he might defer to the senior Interrogator.

"You both raise significant points. We must remain careful however, as our presence in this hive is known to at least one faction of our foes. To that end, I personally wish to investigate the Adeptus Arbites themselves – to find out if they know or have curtailed information of our attackers," Julion halted in the gap between the gangers' and Udanya's seating positions. "All of these factors are imperative, and so we will split into three groups."

The two Interrogators nodded, unsurprised. Samias got the impression that much of this had already been mulled over back in orbit, and that the Inquisitor was announcing it for their benefit.

"Each of you will be assigned to either one of my Interrogators or myself for this endeavour," the man spoke, directed at the Chrome Fangs. It wouldn't have been unexpected for the Inquisitor to simply begin the separation process without comment, but Samias appreciated the ever so slightly more gentle route he took with the trio.

It was logical – if the team was to be pursuing three different objectives simultaneously, they would have to be separated themselves, and having three inexperienced gangers tagging onto any one group would probably end up hindering that one.

"I'd like to take Strask and Samias," Udanya put in, raising her eyebrows at the latter, "If that's alright?"

The boy had to quash the urge to decline, nodding after a moment. He was hoping, stupidly, that Aurelius would have selected him for his own squad, as if he was being picked for a childish game and not for a task that could affect the entire hive.

That also made sense. It was clear Julion was about to take no chances with the animosity which had erupted between him and the blonde hampering their duty. That Samias had reconciled with Aurelius so quickly after their fight wasn't known to anyone but the two themselves. It probably just looked like they were ignoring one another.

"I want Maratha with me," the younger Interrogator gazed up at the Mechanicum adept, who inclined her head back. He then brushed his gaze over the gangers, Samias meeting it for a moment before Aurelius quickly carried on, "And Valeria?"

Samias half expected him to end with "I guess?", slightly disappointed that Aurelius seemed unfazed by the fact that they wouldn't be working together in this next mission. The boy had spent the most time with each of the Chrome Fangs anyway.

"Then Michael shall accompany myself," Julion stated, and Sam gripped his friend's shoulder gently as he felt the silver-haired boy tensing beside him. He did wish all three of them could stay together, but this separation would be necessary if they ever wanted to properly integrate into the Inquisitorial retinue until Enchellus was saved.

"Florencia, you will stay and protect this location," he told the Sister of Battle, who nodded reverently. Samias had to fight down a sense of awe at the warrior's presence now that he had properly witnessed her in action.

Out of all of them, she was most wounded in the battle against the Red Eyes, but still cut a proud figure even as she nursed multiple bandaged wounds.

"We will reconvene once our objectives have been completed. Find out as much as you can, my Interrogators, but do not overextend at this juncture. We must blend patience and haste if we are to succeed at the threat to this world," the Inquisitor instructed, "May the Emperor guide our paths."

Udanya beckoned Samias over to her with a short wave, and he followed Strask and the Interrogator into the dining hall.

"So here's the plan," she began, collecting a few dataslates from the long table before turning to the two men, "I will be posing as Lady Yuriki Ensisus, a wealthy noblewoman invited to the coronation celebration indignant that my dear husband wasn't invited to the ceremonies – particularly the afterparty in the Whitewater Halls of the palace. You two will be my personal bodyguards."

"Hmm, I don't know about that," Strask interjected as Udanya cocked an eyebrow at him, "Samias here looks a little fresh-faced for a seasoned bodyguard, don't you think?"

The woman let out a long-suffering sigh as Strask chuckled, clapping a large arm round the somewhat embarrassed boy's shoulders, "He literally has a contusion around his right eye, Strask. I'm sure he can play the part just fine."

Samias instinctively touched the diminished bruise, one of many courtesy of Aurelius. He couldn't say he hadn't deserved them, and was glad that the mottled fingerprints encircling the other boy's pale neck had faded to be barely visible now.

The morning of the current day was the first time he'd properly seen Aurelius out of dim light for a while, and had felt a shiver of guilt about the marks he hadn't realised were still on his throat (but at least the handprint on his face had gone). He didn't know if he wouldn't have held a grudge had the situations been reversed.

"Anyway, as I was saying," Udanya continued, glaring at Strask for a short moment. "If I can convince any administration personnel to update the guest lists with a file I have created for the Inquisitor then we can step back there and ensure that the real Yuriki won't be attending the event. Otherwise, we will have to sneak in and modify or assess the staffing profiles for the servants for something one of us could approximate, which poses more personal risk but won't be technologically challenging.

"Whichever goal we succeed with, the next stage of the process will be appearing at one of the many minor events occurring as part of the greater coronation ceremony and mingling with the courtiers and aristocrats present," she tapped her fingers together as she spoke, "With the mission to gather intel or gossip – though they will most likely be interchangeable – on the Camellia members who will be attending the gathering at the governor's palace for whoever ends up infiltrating there to focus their attention towards."

"Seems like you have this thing well planned out," Strask commented, Samias electing to stay quiet for now. Udanya smiled coldly before replying, "It pays to be well prepared."

She motioned to the two men in a sweeping gesture, "This subterfuge will require you both the change into something more suitable. House Ensisus doesn't don its small contingent of bodyguards in ceremonial regalia, thus the black flak armour we have will suffice."

"And you, my lady?" the eldest of them asked with a mock bow, to which Udanya rolled her eyes. "I have something rather more regal prepared for myself."

"We'd better go get changed then," Strask directed Samias out into a room which had been outfitted as a makeshift armoury, selecting two sets of the aforementioned protective gear whilst muttering, "I'm guessing House Ensisus isn't rich enough to afford carapace armour for its guards then?"

Samias eyed the garb of interlocking plasteel plates which Strask had mentioned next to that which they would be wearing, wondering if being clad in such would hamper his movements and how much more protection it would bring.

Strask passed him the set before shamelessly stripping off his casual garments in order to put on some grey-brown fatigues. Before Samias turned away to begin changing himself, he noted the numerous scars criss-crossing the man's muscled abdomen interspersed with what were clearly lasburn wounds and sealed up bullet holes.

" _Shit_ ," he let out without thinking, eyes lingering on Strask's arrangement of past injuries as the older gazed back at him.

"Ha. It's quite the sight, right?" he chuckled, brushing his hand over it, "But I've come off very lucky in comparison to some other servants of the Emperor."

"How long have you been serving for?" Samias asked as he changed, following Strask's example even though what he was wearing was mostly black already.

"Around thirty standard years, give or take. I stopped keeping an exact count," the man's eyebrows raised sardonically at the boy's shocked expression, "Terra, kid, I'm not that old. Don't look at me with those big eyes like I'm some relic."

"That's still a long time," Sam grinned. Strask's mirthful expression dimmed slightly, his eyes taking on a somewhat wistful look and staring straight through the ganger, "It isn't, not really. Not compared to how longed others have. I've still got at least double that in me."

Samias didn't quite know how to reply. He wasn't aware of what would await an Inquisitor or their servants as age took its hold. He had a inkling there would be no retirement, no rest and no end to their service, but couldn't quite comprehend that fact.

"You gonna keep improving on your statue impression or get moving?" Strask laughed as the younger turned away, embarrassed by his descent into contemplation. Once they had finished, the man passed Samias a faceless helm plumed with a single blue feather.

"That'll complete the look," he grinned as the boy's eyebrows rose, "Undoes the camouflage a bit, doesn't it?"

When they returned to the dining hall, the two were greeted by a rather focused looking Aurelius in the midst of elucidating his plan further to Valeria, Maratha having presumably departed to fetch some device Samias wouldn't understand. The two were stood well apart, Val avoiding the brunt of Aurelius's aura at the distance and the boy exhibiting no qualms about that fact.

The girl was nodding intermittently, using the pauses the Interrogator left her to ask for further clarification, all seriousness and concentration herself.

Valeria was most probably the smartest of the three Chrome Fangs in Sam's opinion – whilst Mikey could occasionally be lit up by brilliant flashes of inspiration and always wanted to know more, the other boy was, to put it mildly, easily distracted. The girl's mind was razor sharp, her focus always on the objective and as ruthlessly competitive as Samias could be himself.

Aurelius finished his sentence, cocking an eyebrow at Samias when the taller approached, bridging the gap between the two other teens. He couldn't tell if the blonde was irked at his interruption or was amused at the change of clothes.

"Good luck with your mission, you two," he grinned, patting Val on the arm and repressing the near-automatic move to do the same to Aurelius. The girl rolled her eyes, although did the same to Samias, replying, "Yeah, you too. Maybe you should be more focused on yours, though?"

"Am I not allowed to wish my friends good luck?" Samias inquired with as innocent an expression as he could muster, not missing the fact that Aurelius had turned away without response – perhaps rebuffed by the easy affection between friends.

"Of course. But Aurelius was right in the middle of telling me something," Val admonished, "And concentrating on what your task entails is really what you should be doing now."

Samias put on a small pout, flicking his eyes over to the aforementioned blonde, "Aurelius appreciates it, don't you?"

Evidently not expecting to be called upon, the addressed twisted round in surprise at the mention of his name, eyes wide – near-emotionless, as usual, but coloured with confusion. Samias merely flashed a charming smile at the stunned youth, chuckling internally at how taken aback the Interrogator appeared.

"I'm sure Aurelius appreciates you paying attention and not distracting us more," Valeria put in, elbowing Samias in the stomach teasingly. The smaller boy nodded with more than a hint of uncertainty, clearly not really aware of how he should be reacting. Samias removed his gaze before it lingered suspiciously long as a lost-looking Michael entered the large room, unaccompanied by Julion. Although he knew the Inquisitor would be an effective mentor and director, Samias didn't envy his friend having to work solely with the group's uncompromising leader. Conversation wouldn't exactly be easy, that was for certain, although perhaps the single-minded focus that Julion instilled in his retinue would be beneficial for Michael.

"Good luck on your mission, Mikey," he said, half-serious and half-brotherly teasing as he clapped a hand onto the boy's shoulder and squeezed it firmly before pulling him into a headlock and ruffling his silver hair.

"You too, big guy – shit!" Michael's voice was caught between a yelp and a laugh as he struggled playfully against the taller boy's attack, batting at his arm and cursing indignantly until Samias relented to laying it across his shoulders. Michael glared at him jokingly, flicking his head in the direction of Aurelius and Valeria as he mock-growled, "Fuck off. Go bully someone else."

"Make me, nerd," Sam grinned at his friend. He'd been bigger than the other youth for as long as he had known him, much to Michael's chagrin when they wrestled (or, more rarely, fought). It was clear what Mikey was implying, though whether that was because of his fight with Aurelius (which Samias had downplayed the severity of to the other gangers, both out of guilt and to ease the reconciliation process between him and the blonde) or because of his attempts to befriend the Pariah was unclear.

Samias raised his eyebrows. He _dared_ Mikey to say something to Aurelius. He wouldn't, because he was near terrified of the younger boy, not knowing how sweet Aurelius was under the cold void of his exterior like Samias did.

"When you're quite finished man-handling your friend," a cultured, honeyed voice brought its attention to Samias's ears. He span, blushing slightly in embarrassment at an Udanya who looked every part the haughty noblewoman she was imitating gazing back at him with amusement and mild impatience, "I am ready to depart. We have business to conduct."

Samias gently pushed Mikey away from him, and (to a mutter of "I _told_ you that you were being distracting," from Valeria), stepping to Udanya's side with a muted nod.

On a whim, he turned to Aurelius, the boy's eyes scanning him impassively a moment after he did so. Samias flashed a warm smile at the seventeen year old, his heart leaping as Aurelius's gaze almost imperceptibly softened.

The corner's of the boy's lips quirked upwards, not quite reaching a smile, but to Samias that was still a victory, before the younger Interrogator turned away and resumed his interrupted conversation with Valeria.

.*.*.*.

The governor's palace was gargantuan.

Samias had expected it would be big. He'd seen images of it rendered in holopicts Udanya had shown them, a vast, brutalist-yet-ornate structure emblazoned in the Camellia emblem and Imperial iconography that rose above the spires crowning Hive Enchellus.

Yet the sheer scale of the palace was evidently something that the holograms could never capture. The citadel rose above them, hard plascrete and stone draped in massive banners each of which could have wrapped around a hab-block in the lower city with length to spare. Its pinnacle seemed to pierce the heavens themselves, obscured by the omnipresent smog of pollution.

Petitioners and minor officials of the Administratum swarmed processional courtyards as royal praetorians corralled them into some lacking semblance of order, servants clad in Camellia-flowered outfits scurrying through the crowds. It was, for once, not raining, so the crowds were more evenly spread across the vast courtyard instead of huddled beneath the cover of the high walls.

Samias tried not to be overwhelmed with awe at it all. A bodyguard of a noblewoman would most likely be numbed to such sights, developed a resistance to the palatial grandeur of the upper hive in order to better concentrate on protecting their aristocratic charges.

Yet it was difficult not to feel inconsequentially small amidst the harsh, bulky monuments to the rulers of the Karvonis system. It was a far cry from the squalor and poverty he'd been raised in, that was for certain.

Luckily, Samias's shock was concealed behind his visor, so he only had to focus on presenting a hardened, alert posture as he flanked Udanya.

Briefly, as the boy took in a towering statue, carved from hard stone and weathered with age, he wondered if that had been the point of the helms. Udanya, and probably Strask, would have had experience schooling their expressions to elicit whatever reaction they wished and deceive their way into palaces like this one. The limit of Samias's own facial control extended to temporarily tricking his friends, so having it hidden behind his helm ensured he wouldn't give away their duplicity.

They approached a cavernous entrance, a doorway carved with murals depicting scenes Samias knew nothing about guarded by silver and purple armoured praetorians meticulously processing the crowds and permitting entrance to a select few.

As the trio reached a particularly dense region of crowd, Udanya sighed impatiently and daintily extended a hand towards Samias, her motions streaked with a mix of frustration and disgust.

Samias extended his elbow out, allowing the Interrogator to loop her own through it, hands still gripping his autorifle.

"Make way!" barked Strask, the taller of the two false bodyguards shouldering his way through the crowds in front of the two, barging those who either refused to or couldn't part out of their path.

Udanya made a show of tilting her head up arrogantly, sparing no attention to the masses waiting to enter the palace and appearing to let Samias guide her in Strask's wake. In reality, the woman gently tugged the ganger along, ensuring that he stayed what would probably be an ideal distance behind the other guard.

 _Focus,_ Samias told himself. The spectacle of the governor's palace wasn't as important as their objective.

Samias's eyes scanned the crowd. He couldn't discern much of them, a spattering of individuals attired in more rich garments swallowed by an ensemble of muted figures. Most were armed, low level weaponry hanging from belts or stashed in pockets, which in fact seemed to be the primary source for the delay – the palace guards removing the guns in question before the claimants were permitted entrance to the palace interior.

His instincts were telling him that none were a threat, but then his instincts weren't used to acting at the highest echelons of society – those in the underhive would usually be much more brash and direct in their hostility.

Although he was falsely clad as a bodyguard, that didn't mean his role wasn't to protect Udanya. Not that the junior Interrogator would need him protecting her (though Samias hadn't witnessed the woman in combat), but he needed to feel he was pulling his weight in this operation.

Strask brought them to the front of the queue, the angry protests of those they shoved past dying on their lips when they beheld Udanya's unmistakable aristocratic bearing and the armaments of those alongside her.

"State your purpose," a palace guardian uttered as they approached, their ornamental glaive crossed with another's to bar their path. Samias's eyes were automatically drawn to the finely-crafted blade, before noticing the pistol stashed in the woman's belt.

 _That's probably the main threat. The glaive might just be ceremonial._

Udanya flashed her a haughty glance, coughing daintily to clear her throat before announcing, " I am Lady Yuriki of House Ensisus, and I have business to conduct with the organisers of the coronation ceremony that you are currently interrupting."

"Identification?" the guard asked, nonplussed by the clear disdain seeping throughout "Lady Yuriki's" tone – most likely accustomed to aristocrats treating them worse than the dirt beneath their artisan shoes.

Udanya titled her head away as if merely complying to the request was beneath her, Strask handing the praetorian sealed documentation.

Samias had glanced at it earlier when Udanya had been outlining her plan, though as it was all written in High Gothic he couldn't understand a word. The document itself was an elaborate forgery, though contained genuine articles of identification belonging to House Ensisus.

When asked how the Interrogator had procured such a thing, Udanya had merely smiled and winked – before dispelling the teasing air and launching a full explanation as to how she and late Idris had been integrating themselves into the social circles of minor noble houses in the guise of businessmen of the Administratum.

The guard leafed through the paperwork before subjecting it to a scanner held out by her partner. They boy tried not to let his worries show, feeling multiple eyes on him. If this was rejected, it was possible that the guards would take a forceful approach in detaining the impersonators of a noble house.

 _Act the part. There's no reason to be nervous._

Samias recalled how effortlessly Aurelius had faked their way through the security at the starport – and how effortlessly Inquisitor Julion had lied to the Chief. Confidence was the key to pulling off a successful deception.

"My apologies for the wait. Please enter, my Lady," the guard offered a pronounced bow, whispering something into her helmet, "An escort will be on its way shortly."

Udanya nodded briskly, affecting an air of impatient disinterest that mildly seethed with irritation at the guard's supposed temerity in obstructing one of noble birth. They passed through the cavernous archway the praetorians were guarding into a lavishly furnished foyer containing more guards and the select few outsiders permitted access.

The guards eyed Strask and Samias somewhat warily, though not with as much concern as the boy might have expected. They didn't present that much of a threat, he supposed, and there didn't seem to be anyone of great importance in the vast reception anyway.

It wasn't long at all before a man dressed in a moderately gaudy outfit emblazoned with Camellia flower centred skulls and a single Imperial Aquilla – not as ostentatious as his surroundings, but certainly not anything remotely approaching modesty – attended to them with an exaggerated bow, honeyed flatteries instantly spilling from his lips.

"Ah, the famed Lady Yuriki, to what does this house owe the pleasure of your visit?" he asked, warily eying Samias and Strask for a moment before directing his full attention to Udanya. The woman beheld him icily, and though the man didn't hold her gaze he didn't drop his own to the floor in complete submission.

Samias had thought Lady Yuriki was a noblewoman of minor aristocratic blood, and wondered how much of their attendant's deference was genuine. He didn't know much about the politics which defined the upper hive, but no one in Enchellus could go without awareness of House Camellia's stranglehold upon it.

Perhaps this was how they kept the other noble families in line – swaddle the lesser houses in ribbons of pleasantry and flattery with the constant threat of tightening to crush them into nonexistence. It was a far cry from the brutal diplomacy of the underhive gangs he was used to, that was for sure.

"There has been a mistake. My husband has not been invited to the reception for "distinguished guests" in Whitewater Hall," Udanya near-spat, indignance and contempt coiling in her self-important tone. Perhaps she would have partook in the dance of words had she been talking to another of her social stature, but with a mere servant she was direct. "I have come to rectify this error."

"Forgive my impertinence, but this humble retainer was not aware of your marriage – and perhaps, if it was a recent occasion, the guest list has not been updated to reflect this?"

"I want it fixed. Unless you believe my husband is not a "distinguished guest"?" Udanya ground out, thinly-veiled threat seeping through her words like blood through a shirt.

"Of course, of course. No slight will have been intended to House Ensisus, I can assure you. If this is an administrative error, the palace clerks will soon have it sorted," the man placated, hastily concealing a worried glance in the direction of Samias and Strask.

The boy suppressed the automatic urge to look away and ease the attendant's discomfort, knowing that the intimidation was all part of the act, so stood as straight and imposing as possible.

"Right this way then, if you would be so kind. I hesitate to front such a banal inquiry to one such as yourself, but would I be correct in the assumption you have brought identification papers for your esteemed husband?" Samias tried not to be irritated by the man's overly meandering path to the point, but this whole atmosphere was grating with him.

Udanya nodded, making a visible effort not to snarl at their attendant. They were led through ostentatiously decorated hallways, every space on the tall walls occupied by vast paintings, some weathered with age but no less impressive than those which were clearly newer and shone with a vibrancy Samias had not witnessed once in the undercity.

He stayed close behind Udanya, following Strask's lead at the distance the older man placed between himself and the Interrogator. It wasn't long before their attendant was conversing with more of his rank if their attire was anything to go by, politely directed the trio towards another of the palace staff.

"What seems to be the problem?" her disinterested voice rang out, several brass appendages protruding from a bulky mechanism attached to her back – the carapace of a mechanical insect, iridescent with oily polish instead of shiny chitin – organising large stacks of paper set out meticulously across her desk, whilst others etched away with pens.

"The dear Lady Yuriki has informed us of a mishap in the guest registry for the coming coronation celebrations – her husband, Lord Dutce ver Ensisus, seems to have been omitted from the list," their attendant spoke, his smooth, sibilant voice at odds with the relentless clacking of the woman's limb attachments. He handed her the documents forged by the Interrogator detailing the non-existent man. "She would request that this be rectified."

"Give me thirty seconds," undaunted by the impatient glare Udanya was spearing her with, the woman sifted through one of her piles of paper with frightening speed as the servant turned back to them.

"Administrator Scribe Majoris Palenra has kept comprehensive paper documentation of the preparations for the entire event at Whitewater Halls," he explained, "She will be able to inform us of any clerical errors that might have excluded your esteemed spouse from the delivery of invitations."

Exactly thirty second passed before Palenra turned back to the four, "Lord Dutce ver Ensisus does not appear on any of the registrational files for the coronation commemoration."

"Then add him to the files," Udanya near spat, as if it was the most clear thing in the world. She must have known her false husband wouldn't have been on the list, so had doubtlessly planned out this moment in her head.

"I cannot. Amendments to the finalised guest list cannot be taken at this time. Had your brought this to our attention days ago this could have been rectified, yet that period has now elapsed."

"Add. Him. To. The. Files," following Strask's move, Samias took a menacing step forwards, a silent threat added to Udanya's displeasure.

Palenra was unfazed. "As I stated: I cannot. Amendments to the guest list were possible only before its finalised form was published."

"This is an outrage! An _insult_! I am a scion of House Ensisus. You _will_ change the list immediately!" Udanya spluttered, her gaudy earrings jingling along to her words in an almost mocking tune as he composure dissolved.

"Protocol is protocol. We do not make mistakes. Your husband will have to miss this event," the Scribe Majoris levelled her gaze at the furious woman. "Any formal complaints can be submitted to the relevant Administratum branch."

"I will remember this. Don't count on keeping a job for very long, Scribe," the Interrogator span on her heel, shaking with barely repressed anger as she strode away. Their retainer matched it, adding, "House Camellia apologises deeply for the inconvenience to you and your husband, and we can assure you no disrespect was meant. If you can wait hear I can arrange an escort-"

"I won't require an escort. Get out of my sight. _Now_ ," Udanya hissed, venom twisting her tone from one of impotent rage to very potent malice. Bowing shakily, the man nodded, babbling flatteries, "Of- of course, madam! Right away!"

Udanya turned to her two bodyguards, Samias unsure whether or not he had noticed a slight smirk gracing her features set in aristocratic outrage. She took her place between the two men, beckoning swiftly that they follow.

"The guard patrolling the perimeter does so every one-hundred and three to one-hundred and twenty seconds, taking twenty of that to pass between the left side of this room to the right. A servitor traverses a longer circuit of roughly five minutes" Udanya began tersely, prompting a shocked glance from Samias that was hidden behind his visor.

He had already deduced that the elder Interrogator was intensely analytical, thorough to the point of leaving as little as possible to chance before their current mission had begun. But to scout out and fully internally choreograph the motions of the palace guardians whilst maintaining a convincing act of a spoilt noble-blood was something beyond that.

"Our dear Scribe Majoris will no doubt have a comprehensive record of palace staff members in the administration archives, located north west from here. On my mark, we make a move just after the guard begins another rotation."

Samias gulped, though steadied his nerves. He was no stranger to violence, but the thought of one wrong step or quirk of chance leading to their arrests or deaths didn't sit too well with him.

The group waited in the corridor until the soldier in question had passed by before moving in the direction Udanya had specified – swiftly, but not to the point where their unauthorised passage would be patent.

Samias got the impression that the governor's palace had been deliberately designed to be as befuddling as possible to navigate, though Udanya's pace never slowed as she strode through the winding passageways, much barer than the majestic nature of the palace that the public saw. She moved as if she had walked these halls before, probably a result of her extensive studying of the floor plans which Samias had glanced at briefly before their mission.

The boy kept glancing around, nervous that someone would spot the group, but Udanya's assessment of guard movement seemed to hold steady.

It wasn't long before they came to a halt in front of a locked door, one of many that sported a bulky passcode seal. Samias didn't recall Udanya mentioning knowing the access codes to any of the palace's administration facilities, though she probably wouldn't have found it pertinent to share it with what were essentially her escorts anyway.

The woman stopped in front of the door and removed a hairpin, letting part of her carefully constructed coiffure fall. She carefully twisted the pin, revealing a strange looking device which the Interrogator plugged into the lock, small tendrils of wire extending out from it into the seal.

Samias was sure that Udanya could have hidden the pin in her robes, or had either him or Strask carry it. Her flair for more dramatic espionage was showing through – a far cry from the more ruthless and direct tactics of Aurelius and the Inquisitor.

The lock opened with a satisfying _clack_ , and as the three entered Udanya directed them to a whirring machine connected to a set of dataslates laid out on a metal table in front of it.

"This is what we're looking for. This databank should hold the records of every member of non-indentured serving staff the palace employs," she picked up one of the slates, "We need to move relatively swiftly. Start searching for any that have similar physical structures to any member of our group. I doubt that with the quantity they will vet each one with scrutiny, but the more similarity the better."

Samias took one of the tablets, hoping that having never used a dataslate before wouldn't slow him down. Thankfully, scrolling between the profiles of the serving staff wasn't difficult.

"This one looks like Aurelius," he announced, gazing at a blonde youth with nervous blue eyes that stared back at him. The name _Endreas Maxim_ flashed in green lettering above the image, alongside a set of records that the ganger skimmed over. "A bit less uptight though."

Strask gave him a gentle shove before leaning over, "You're not wrong. On both points."

"While I don't doubt my fellow Interrogator's ability to execute the next stage of our plan solo, we should find as many lookalikes as possible," Udanya was also peering at the servant, having already pulled out her own dataslate and quickly copying the information.

"What about this guy? Kind of looks like Michael. Without the silver hair, obviously," Strask mentioned.

Samias felt his breath catch in his throat. Out of anyone chosen to be acting as a servant, the boy would have picked every other member of the Inquisitor's retinue before Mikey.

"Yes, it should be easy enough to dye it brown," Udanya agreed. Samias swallowed down his protests. As much as he didn't want the other Fang to be in danger, it was inevitable now with the situation they had gotten themselves into. He knew Michael could handle himself.

"We're done here, then," the Interrogator stated once she had finished her notes, fixing her hair to its previous state before directing them to leave.

.*.*.*.

" _In my many years of service, I have faced countless breeds of xenos, heretics and traitors all with the will to snuff out mankind. And yet despite that, I believe stagnation is the greatest threat facing the Imperium. Our enemies will not wait whilst we languish in ignorant inertia."_

 _\- Inquisitor Ziora Avien of the Ordo Xenos._

Rainwater streamed down the walls of the warehouses, vast storage structures that might once have been factory depots or Administratum storehouses but now lay unused drowning in the downpour. Whether this specific set had been abandoned due to relocation of their contents, the materials housed no longer required or merely through some clerical error which had diverted flow elsewhere was unknown to Aurelius.

The reason was irrelevant, baseless conjecture filling his mind as he tried to grasp a greater understanding of the place when it wasn't needed. The warehouses were abandoned, their purpose rendered null, empty and free of the workers that would have inhabited it in times of use.

Or, apparently, not. This was the place the files recovered from the Red Eye stronghold, information stripped from dataslates which could never had originated in the undercity, had noted. Recent transactions had occurred that had led the Arbites to store something unspecified from the gang at this location.

It was unlikely to be the Enslavers themselves. The Interrogator expected their mysterious foes to have placed maximum security around the dangerous xenos considering no outbreak of their influence had occurred so far. Had he been his enemy, he would have kept such a high priority resource constantly on the move, certainly not in the same place for over a day.

But this hunt could open up veins of information and provide them with vital clues as to the whereabouts of their main prey as well as the distribution of Red EX which pervaded the hive.

Valeria and Maratha were huddled behind one of the plascrete walls, a comfortable distance away from the Interrogator. The two had established a small rapport, since neither had been willing to broach conversation with Aurelius himself.

For his part, the boy had stayed silent in the moments he wasn't directing the group – and even that could be accomplished by simple gestures. There was no use causing undue discomfort to his partners, and thus the trek through the mid-levels of the city had been light of conversation.

He was fairly certain he hadn't uttered a single word not pertaining to their directions or instructions for when they had reached their destination. Such wasn't unusual, Aurelius's silent demeanour something which shouldn't have been of any note to him, and yet on this occasion it was.

Perhaps it was because of his talk with Samias. It had been the first proper conversation – not a short burst of orders, nor a stunted, malformed exchange of stilted pleasantries – he'd shared with another in a long time. He hadn't realised he'd missed that so dearly until a few hours after it had ended.

Sequestered away between Districts Prendan and Ullyst, the warehouses weren't a particularly easy find, though aside from mildly inconvenient geography there hadn't been much in the way of impendence to the group – a warning sign that either the location itself would be heavily guarded or the trail had gone cold.

Aurelius peered closely at the building in question through a pair of high-quality vision binoculars from the trio's vantage point, its muted hues greyed further in the equipment's monotone display. Scanning the warehouse, designated Eta-112 and those nearby provided nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing could be gleaned from the structures' exterior; they appeared identical to the numerous warehouses they had already passed.

"Seen anything?" Maratha asked. The Mechanicum adept had ocular implants which would allow her to view the area in a similar way to Aurelius through the binoculars (most likely superior) and through a range of wavelengths, so wasn't questioning because she couldn't see.

"Negative. We'll have to go inside," he replied, placing the vision enhancers back at his belt. He pondered, for a split second, that as he was supposed to be mentoring Valeria in some respect he should perhaps have let her take a look, before dismissing the idea.

A fresh perspective could never be underestimated, but he trusted both his own and Maratha's critical eyes more than that of the gangers' – even if she was the most observant out of the three they had adopted into their ranks.

Maratha nodded, stepping towards the perimeter of once-electrified razorwire implanted in the muddy ground encircling the warehouse cluster. There was an entrance gate only a few metres to the right which would have been the main path for workers, deactivated like the fence itself, but Aurelius didn't trust the rusted mechanisms to stay quiet as they opened their way in.

Instead, Maratha reached down to the bottom row of vicious barbs, a smaller mechadendrite than that she was usually equipped with snaking out of her long sleeves and looping once around the fence.

Pulling on the barbed row allowed it to be lifted enough for a person to crawl through, the soft ground below eroded enough to permit passage. She detached the wire, wrapping it round the row above to keep the makeshift entrance open.

Simply cutting the deactivated wires would have been much easier, yet that would leave evidence of tampering and Aurelius wanted to take no chances with this operation. Sloppiness somewhere along the way had already led foes to one hideout and cost Idris and Emilia.

As they had discussed, the blonde laid down and crawled through the gap first, easily able to fit his skinny form through and into the warehouse area proper. There was scant cover in the distance between the fence and the first of the buildings, so the moment he cleared the razorwire Aurelius darted to the wall of the warehouse.

He hadn't seen any defence emplacements or anything resembling a threat, but still felt a slight shiver at the thought of being gunned down in the open.

Aurelius held his pistol at the ready as Valeria sprinted into position beside him – a touch less stealthy than he would have preferred, her feet splashing on the soaked rockcrete, though he could understand her urgency in moving through the open. Maratha followed soon after, silent in a way thoroughly unexpected of a standard Mechanicum adept.

Drenched in rain and muddy from their crawl, the three were the image of covert as they stalked their way to the entrance of warehouse Eta-112, clinging to the walls like unnatural shadows.

Aurelius peeked into the doorway, the darkness of the warehouse's interior yawning open and beckoning him inside. He allowed his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the lack of light, waiting until he could distinguish shapes within the formless gloom.

"It seems empty," he whispered, the barest definition of ranks of high shelves imprinting themselves in his vision. He hadn't seen motion, and the lumen strips which would be hanging overhead were invisible instead of glowing with faint embers of light. "But wait for my signal."

With that, the boy let the shadows swallow him, silently stepping into the cavernous room, carefully feeling his way to one of the shelf blocks. Aurelius was unwilling to use the torch until he was certain there was no one else within, and whilst the goggles held night-vision functionality the Interrogator trusted his own senses more.

As his eyes accustomed to the dark, Aurelius saw that by and large the shelves were empty, at least on this side of the warehouse. He stilled his breathing for a moment, focusing his hearing. Nothing put the pattering rain, amplified by its impact against the rooftop, made its way to the boy's ears.

As far as he could tell, they were alone.

Pulling out the torch, Aurelius flashed two short bursts of light in quick succession in the direction of the doorway. To their credit, Maratha and Valeria weren't visible to him until they entered, making their way to where the seventeen year old was stood waiting.

Aurelius tried to untense his limbs. It wasn't the first stealth mission he had been on in this hive alone, and he certainly wasn't frightened of what the dark could hold. No, the quiet and lack of evidence of use was inking splotches of doubt in his mind – that perhaps this was a waste of their time, or that the intel was faulty.

Aurelius banished the thoughts. They hadn't begun yet. He only hoped that after their raid of the Red Eye stronghold the gangers' clientele weren't anticipating their interference.

He began pacing forwards before the two women reached him, trusting that since Maratha could see in the dark she would direct Valeria if the ganger lost sight of him.

There was no conversation as the three slowly navigated the ordered maze of shelves which would once have been stacked high. All that had to be discussed for the mission's success had been discussed, and while there didn't seem to be anyone else there abandoning stealth for a bit of chatter would be unwise (thus he was thankful it was Valeria with him, not Michael).

Each of them were on high alert, and Aurelius kept a mental map of what routes they had taken throughout the warehouse while the progressed through it.

Soon enough, an area of interest was found. The boy's eyes could perceive a row of cylinders stashed at the back of the warehouse, taller than he was and empty – the same type of cylindrical container he had seen in the Red Eye laboratory.

"Maratha, what do you see?" he hissed, pressing his hand to the glass as the three clustered round them.

"Traces of cryogens and amniotic stasis fluid, but that's the limit without having contact with the interiors," came the clipped response.

Aurelius nodded. This confirmed their hypothesis that the cylinders had been used to store the Enslavers safely, but then such hadn't been a huge leap of logic anyway. It wasn't worth them coming here.

That in turn begged the question: why were the cylinders empty? Back in the Red Eye stronghold and now here, it was clear that the Enslavers had not reached their destination yet, so there must either have been another method of transporting them or some other reason for their removal from stasis.

Aurelius didn't have long to ponder. White light, near blinding to the youngster's dark-attuned eyes, flared from above. He span, hellpistol raised in the direction behind them and his finger almost depressing the trigger.

He didn't unleash a volley of high-powered lasbolts only because Maratha hadn't reacted either. Like him, Valeria had floundered in the split-second it took to the activation of the lights, but the Mechanicum adept's augmetics would have processed the alteration in light levels instantly.

Instead, hearing voices, footsteps and the faint sound of an engine at the other end of the warehouse, Aurelius quickly deduced that an ambush hadn't been sprung.

Trusting that the other two would have the sense to follow him, the Interrogator hid behind one of the vast shelves, halting his breathing in an attempt to listen to the voices quietly drifting over from the entrance.

It was too quiet for him at the distance, though as the seconds passed he could pick out the occasional word.

"Glad … not … Enslavers … just Red EX … time."

 _So, they've returned. And it seems their cargo isn't the warp xenos._

They had two paths ahead of them now. The first was to endeavour to remain hidden, to not alert the enemy to their infiltration of the warehouse and depart only when they were certain they wouldn't be seen – whether that involved doing it under their noses or waiting until they were finished here.

The second was a more direct route – to kill their way out of the warehouse. There weren't exactly ample opportunities for stealth in the empty aisles of the abandoned facility, especially not if whoever had come was intending to spread out across it. Yet they had no indication of the enemy's strength nor level of equipment, and none of the three particularly specialised in mundane combat.

He could feel the eyes of Maratha and Valeria lingering on him, looking for direction. It was discomforting, though whenever the gaze of another spent more than a moment on him it was usually filled with fascinated disgust.

"Dravem, go check on the stasis-containers. Make sure nothing's happened to them. Yeah, I know, but the boss said we still might need them, so just do it."

That settled it then. With the foe separating itself, it would only be a matter of time before someone spotted them. And now they had an easy target.

Aurelius held up a gloved hand, before prowling forwards down the aisle. He heard footsteps, accompanied by muttered grumbling, coming his way, but didn't see anyone else.

He placed the Animus on maximum suppression, not wanting to give away his position through a disconcerting aura or make his target feel unease that might put them on high alert.

The person's footsteps clattered on the hard rockcrete floor of the building, and Aurelius drew his knife, stashing his pistol at his belt. The flare of the gun's fatal payload would be too bright not to draw more attention. No, this needed to be a clean, silent kill.

The boy counted the steps, mentally determining how close the unaware soldier was to his position as well as recalling the design of their armour, before springing forwards.

He wrapped one gloved hand round the face grill of the man's black helm and plunged his dagger into his exposed throat with the other. A gurgled cry was muffled by his tight grip, blood bubbling out through the gaps in his fingers and fountaining through the rent in the soldier's neck.

Panicked hands scrabbled against Aurelius's slender wrists before falling still, the man's body convulsing violently and then sagging heavy in his arms. Before he dropped it – not strong enough to carry the full weight of the soldier for long – Aurelius slunk back into the cover of the shelves and silently eased it to the ground.

It wasn't especially hidden, and it wouldn't take the others too long before they began searching for their missing squad member and inevitably located it. But by that point Aurelius intended it to be too late for them. They could dispose of the corpse once they were the only ones left in the warehouse once more.

He turned, almost calmly, to Maratha and Valeria, his knife and hands drenched in sticky crimson. The former was impassive, waiting for his next orders and most likely calculating her own plan of action.

The latter was paler than usual, her eyes baulking with barely repressed horror, though her face was set in seriousness. It wasn't the first time Aurelius had killed without flinching in front of Valeria (and it certainly would not be the last), but he noted absently that she seemed much less unsettled by the action.

All three of the gangers had been hardened by their experiences against the Red Eyes, that was for certain. It remained to be seen whether they would adapt to the merciless brutality of the Inquisition's ways. As long as they didn't impede their operation, Aurelius wasn't sure whether or not he cared.

 _Yet that's the thing – I'm_ unsure _if I care, whereas I_ shouldn't _._

Ending the life of another had always come easy to Aurelius. After being indentured into the service of the Inquisition, he had known that such a time would come, that killing was a necessity in their line of work and that soon he would snuff out the spark of life inhabiting a human being. He thought it would have been a life-changing, profound experience that would alter his perception, rid him of whatever innocence still clung to his hollow form and harden his mind.

In the end, it had been easy. His Null aura had rendered a psychic on the agri-world of Kalika Majoris incoherent, howling with unfathomable terror, limbs contorting with agony and dribbling blood from her eyes, ears and mouth. Chaos cultists of the Pale Spiral had planned to use the poor, dubiously-gifted girl as a gateway for summoning Demons of the Immaterium, a plan foiled by Julion's intervention.

Putting a lasbolt through her head had been a mercy more than anything else, a cold act of kindness. Aurelius had felt nothing after it, nor did he feel anything but satisfaction in ridding the Imperium of evil as he killed the girl's handlers minutes later.

Perhaps, had the Pariah gene not spread its dark influence through his physiology, he would have felt slivers of remorse and regret staining his steely resolve, though as it was Aurelius had never felt compunctions for killing in the name of what he knew was right. Besides, no one in the Inquisition had the luxury of guilt or doubt.

Ridding the Imperium of the servants of evil – whether willing or unwitting, it mattered not – was an undoubtedly good act, and Aurelius was certain his career would be drenched in the blood of many more in the years to come.

This soldier, or mercenary, was no different.

Not wasting breath on words, he signalled for the women to stick close to him. He could hear the other soldiers unloading their cargo on the other side of the warehouse, most likely still instinctually disturbed by the holding site of the Enslavers despite there being none remaining – with the first to have fallen given the unwanted duty to see that as was well.

The Interrogator couldn't tell exactly how many there would, though would estimate between three and five remaining. The element of surprise was the most important factor in their chance for success. Engaging all of those left at once would only be feasible if their ranks were thinned in a blisteringly fast assault, but picking them off in small groups would be much safer.

He crept to the edges of this row of empty shelves, meeting that which took up the right edge of the huge room.

From there, Aurelius could pick out a group of three soldiers hauling nondescript metal containers. He scanned across the entrance, noting a fourth standing watch in the doorway – guarding against potential intruders like them, only at the wrong time.

They needed to be quick. The two closest to him, one wielding what looked to be a standard-issue autogun whilst the other had a lasgun hanging at their belt were his first targets. The last was unloading small cannisters from the back of a humming servitor platform, a task which would have been quickened by the others aiding him. Instead, they were turning wary eyes towards the far side of the warehouse, likely perturbed by the fact their comrade hadn't finished his task yet.

Aurelius counted the seconds it took for the soldier to take a cannister, haul it over to the shelf and place it there.

He turned back into cover as soon as he could, not wanting to push his luck and be seen. The boy held up four fingers to his subordinates, pointing to the first two and then himself with his other hand before steadying his breathing.

Though he favoured speed and some of his tactics would seem insane to someone not schooled in combat to the same degree as he was, everything Aurelius did was calculated.

He wouldn't put himself in so much danger if he hadn't already deduced that it was the best way to achieve victory. And the faster a fight reached its conclusion, the less potential for fatal error there was.

 _I'll take out the one with the lasweapon first. The autorifle isn't as much of a threat._

Aurelius hurtled out of cover, leaping at the soldier with the lasrifle and thrusting his knife at the woman's vulnerable throat.

With a startled cry, she raised her gun and jolted backwards, the blade carving a line up her helm instead with a horrible shrieking of metal. Her reaction to the melee assault, however impressive, didn't stop a high powered las-bolt blowing out her skull.

Aurelius jammed his knife in the side of her neck. He twisted, using the dagger as leverage to pull the falling body into a spray of bullets.

She was an effective meat shield. The autorifle rounds impacted into the woman's corpse, some ripping through the armour and tearing into the warm flesh beneath, but none pierced to Aurelius.

He fired his hellpistol, orange streaks lancing through his macabre cover in a way that the bullets never could. An agonised cry confirmed he'd guessed the position of the other soldier correctly.

The boy reduced the suppression provided by his Animus as much as possible, wisps of darkness pooling around him, before rushing back behind the shelves.

It bought him a couple of seconds, startling the two left behind but too far away to send them recoiling in terror. There was a sharp _clang,_ indicating that the one hauling their cargo had dropped, before a flurry of lasbolts stitched through the air in both directions.

He ducked behind an empty shelf, not trusting his chances with the one holding containers of Red EX, pressing himself to the floor as beams of light carved through the metal.

Another man's scream signalled the end of the gunfire, the work of Valeria or Maratha.

Aurelius peaked through the scorched ruin of the shelf, snapping off a shot at the last soldier as they sprinted out of the warehouse. It clipped them in the arm, searing through the flak plate and eliciting a pained cry as they dropped their gun, but didn't stop the woman's retreat.

"Don't let them escape!" Aurelius hissed, scrambling to his feet and charging after the fleeing mercenary.

If they allowed the last of the men to get away, their interference would be reported to whoever was co-ordinating the transportation of Enslavers across the hive. It was bad enough that they'd been forced to kill a group, but at least then knowledge of exactly what had happened would be impossible to ascertain and their deaths wouldn't be discovered until after they were expected to report.

He broke into a sprint, the pounding of two other sets of feet hot on his heels. Skidding into the rain-drenched rockcrete outside, Aurelius snapped his head to the side.

He couldn't see her, nor could he hear the sound of her running past the rainfall.

"Maratha!" the boy barked as the Mechanicum agent skidded to a halt next to him. After a split second, the woman switching to thermal vision, Maratha began running again.

Aurelius sprinted past the entrance to the adjacent warehouse. There were too many of them to blindly check for the surviving enemy, so he only hoped that Maratha's augmented vision would lead them to their prey.

Valeria was right behind him, her lasrifle barely slowing down her run as they followed the oldest member of the trio.

"In here," Maratha directed, hosing the doorway of the next identical warehouse with a short spray of lasbolts that illuminated the darkness in a wide arc. It was smart, ensuring that their target wasn't about to cut them down in the entranceway, but it had announced their presence nonetheless.

Blind fire meant Maratha couldn't see the woman. She was probably hiding in some corner of the building, holding her breath and hoping against hope her pursuers wouldn't find her.

 _I'd plan an ambush in this situation. But then, she isn't a Pariah-_

Aurelius whirled as there was a shriek behind him. The woman held a long machete to Valeria's throat, a thin line of blood dripping down the edge of the blade. The girl's eyes were blown wide in terror. Aurelius aimed his hellpistol.

"Stop! Let me leave, and I won't kill-"

Without even a flicker of hesitation, Aurelius pulled the trigger. The lasbolt left a smoking crater in the woman's faceplate, burning Valeria's hair and barely missing the girl's own face.

The knife clattered loudly to the floor, the woman's body slumping a moment after.

Valeria took several panted breaths, still stood in the pouring rain just outside the warehouse, shaking with fear. Their target must have hidden behind the open door.

 _Foolish. She should have killed her instead of trying to bargain with us._

Aurelius internally cursed. It had been sloppy, missing such an obvious hiding spot in his haste to find the last soldier.

The girl's eyes bored into him, full of horror and disgust she didn't even try to repress. An inch to the left, and Aurelius's shot would have turned the ganger's face into a scorched ruin, and she knew it.

And Aurelius hadn't even tried to convince the soldier to surrender, to lull her into a false sense of security before attempting to free Valeria. It had been quicker that way, more efficient, but it could have easily gone wrong.

He couldn't meet her burning gaze, full of accusation. The Interrogator knew what she would be thinking – and he knew she would be right. Aurelius had already led her gang into a battle which had all but annihilated them, and now it seemed as if he was still perfectly willing to sacrifice her to complete their objective.

"Valeria," Maratha brushed past Aurelius to grasp onto the Chrome Fang's trembling shoulders, the girl placing a hand to the small cut on her throat. "You are safe now."

 _I didn't do anything wrong._

The thought came unbidden, and that perturbed the seventeen year old. He had, obviously, before the split-second ambush, made a mistake in not checking behind the door, but during the moment itself he had acted in the best manner possible.

Valeria was shocked but unharmed. Usually, he wouldn't care what others thought of his actions in combat, his merciless devotion to the mission. And, before now, he never had to justify it to himself.

So where was the plaintive voice in his head coming from?

Samias's words came to him then, words that the older boy must have spoken to him tens of times despite knowing him for a few days. Maybe, for once, it wouldn't hurt to follow in his example.

"Are … are you alright?" he asked, voice emotionless and stilted. Valeria looked at him again, before replying quietly, "Yeah. I think so. Thanks … for saving me."

Aurelius peeked up at the girl. Her eyes were still full of that same repulsion, but her words seemed genuine enough.

He didn't know how to respond to that, not with the loathing still fixed in her grey gaze. It spoke volumes that a woman whose brain was half machine was better at comforting others than he was.

"We need to clear out the corpses," he stated after a few seconds of silence, turning to regard the one lying ignominiously in front of them, "Conceal them in the corner of another warehouse. Then we'll examine what they were delivering, and take it if we can."

They still had a mission to complete. Pushing the unnecessary thoughts aside, Aurelius couldn't ignore the fact that he'd been questioning a lot he thought he knew about himself recently.

.*.*.*.

"Is this going to become a common thing?"

Samias turned from where he was sat when he had sensed Aurelius approaching, smiling tiredly at the blonde who halted at the words.

An inability to sleep had caught him again; insomnia that he hoped wasn't intending to afflict him with regularity refusing to permit him the mixed bliss of slumber for fear of what his unconscious mind might find.

So Samias had got up, quietly making his way from his room into the apartment suite proper, aware that after the long day of missions the rest of the Inquisitor's group direly needed sleep. He'd seen a cosy alcove-styled conservatory earlier in the day, so chose to make that his refuge, staring out from a large window into the hive below and lounging on a large rug.

It wasn't exactly private, nowhere in this suite was particularly secluded away apart from individual bedrooms, but in the dead of night it may as well have been. As he had let his mind wander now that it was unchained from his attempts to subdue it and obtain sleep, the boy hadn't been surprised to feel a colourless heaviness pressing down on his thoughts, bringing clarity as nothingness began to take root.

It was an unusual sensation, Aurelius's Pariah aura in its low intensity state. Yet Samias didn't think it was entirely unpleasant. Maybe now that Aurelius wasn't neutral verging on negative, being alerted to his presence wasn't such a bad thing.

The smaller youth stared back at him for a couple of seconds, wearing a sleek black hoodie only slightly bigger than he was to promote comfort, his hands stashed away in its pockets. He looked tired himself, his usually hard gaze softened.

Sam hadn't seen much of the Interrogator after they had all reconvened in their current base. Udanya's team and the Inquisitor's had arrived back during the point afternoon gave way to evening, whilst Aurelius, Maratha and Val had returned a couple of hours after the others had eaten.

After reporting back on his findings to Julion and eating himself, Aurelius had retired to his room, and that had been it. Samias couldn't deny that he had wanted to check to see if the boy was ok, having heard from Valeria that they had entered a short firefight, but hadn't wished to force himself into the blonde's personal space if he wasn't seeking company.

"Maybe," Aurelius replied, eyes drifting down to the floor instead of holding Samias's gaze. He could tell from short tremors of motion in the fabric on his hoodie that the Interrogator was wriggling his hands inside of his pocket. Samias felt warmness melting in his heart even as the void pressed in on his mind, gentle only because of its current restraints.

"You know, you can sit down. I won't bite," he teased with a smile, grinning wider when Aurelius looked to his face to ensure that it was truly alright for him to. He patted the space next to him, unsurprised when the blonde chose not to sit as close as he had indicated and huddled up instead of lounging like Samias was.

"You can never be too careful with underhivers," Aurelius muttered, before bringing a slender hand up to his mouth as if surprised he had spoken the statement out loud. Samias laughed, "Fuck off."

If Aurelius wasn't so averse to touch, he would have punched the other boy on the arm. He didn't think it would be appropriate, even if it might remove the inklings of an apologetic expression forming on his face.

Samias couldn't lie. He was happy Aurelius had, however inadvertently, come to keep him company once again, even if it meant the blonde would be consigned to tiredness as well.

When it was just the two of them, he seemed to get significantly more out of the boy than when they were surrounded by others, as if he was far more willing to share what was truly inside of him to only Samias. Samias didn't know what he'd done to deserve that, as beating and choking him didn't really seem like criterion for obtaining trust.

Aurelius moved to adjust the crystal at his throat, so Samias leapt in before he could, "You don't have to do that. It's fine as it is."

Blue eyes regarded him dubiously, the boy's gloved hand still gripping his pendant as the ganger added, "Seriously, it's fine right now. I don't want you to reduce it when that makes it worse for you."

Aurelius's eyebrows raised, as if stunned by the notion Samias had deduced repressing his void aura forced the discomfort onto the Pariah instead. He'd noticed that every time the darkness and the painful clarity of reality it brought became less intense for him there was a similarly pained reaction from Aurelius himself – even if it was something as little as a small grimace or a sharp intake of breath.

"Are you sure?" the younger asked, concern leaking into his tone, joining the disbelief. Samias nodded insistently and replied, perhaps too emphatically, "Uh huh. Completely certain."

Aurelius stayed silent, though his hand returned to its former place in his pocket. Samias felt a faint dusting of pink rising on his cheeks as the smaller turned away, probably unused to attention that wasn't negative.

They stayed like that for a moment, Samias fighting off his blush and scratching the back of his head whilst Aurelius partially hid in his hoodie. It wasn't tense, though it was awkward, so Samias cleared his throat, hiding a smile as the other's eyes whipped back to him.

"So … uh … how does that crystal work?" he started, unable to meet Aurelius's blue orbs himself this time, "Actually, scratch that … how do your powers work, like, in general? If you don't mind talking about it, I guess ..."

The thought that perhaps Aurelius wouldn't want to discuss something that set him apart from the rest of humanity and dominated every social interaction occurred to Samias after he'd asked the question, causing him to taper off uncertainly.

 _Stupid, stupid. He probably liked that I hadn't asked about it yet._

If Aurelius was annoyed or saddened by the question, he didn't show it, but then he didn't show a lot of things.

"It's not the easiest thing to explain," he began, bringing out his hands and resting them on his lap, "In a most basic sense it is an antithesis to the Warp, a result of my poorly-understood Pariah gene. There's others who are more common than I am with a weaker variation known as Blanks who, like myself, are considered to be soulless – we don't have a presence in the Warp at all."

The boy paused, gazing over at Samias. It took him a moment to realise that Aurelius was looking for confirmation to continue, through anxiousness that he was dominating the conversation and a desire to ensure Samias was understanding. It made him have to hide a smile (due to the serious topic) at how thoughtful Aurelius could be. He nodded, signalling that he was still engaged.

"Every sentient being has a connection, in some capacity, to the Warp – whether it's intensely strong as with Psykers or unnoticeable as with any normal individual. So in that sense Blanks can be considered to be an opposite to regular humans in terms of that connection – still a negative link, but not strongly negative. This allows them to be immune to psychic powers.

"Pariahs, on the other hand, are akin to reverse Psykers. As those with psychic potential are attuned with the Immaterium, so too are we Pariahs attuned with its absence, and derive powers from that."

"So your … _abilities_ … are drawn from the Warp not being present?" Samias inquired, keeping tactful in a conscious effort not to make Aurelius uncomfortable. The other nodded, "Like I said. It's difficult to explain how my aura and powers arise from the lack of something rather than from a direct source. The best analogy I could come up with is inflating a pump, or filling a balloon. I don't … I don't know if you've seen ..."

"I know what a balloon is, yes," Samias deadpanned, before grinning as Aurelius blushed slightly, "Oh … um, ok. Imagine reality is the surface of the balloon, and the Warp is the air trapped within it, an unnatural dimension scraping beneath the skin of material existence home to mad gods and legions of bloodthirsty demons."

"Charming," the ganger responded even as the chilling prospect radiated up his spine. He was guessing there was a lot he would come to learn of the Warp – having only heard it from the ravings of madmen that declared it was the fate of those who did not have faith in the Emperor.

Aurelius arched one of his hands to simulate the surface, "This is just the constant state of things. A Pariah's presence squashes the balloon, flattening reality." He straightened his fingers to illustrate, "Forcing the Warp out. Though the Immaterium is defined only by senseless, perverse metaphysics, it is still energy and presence that is undeniably there, so in its absence there is room for something to take its place – my powers. In essence my aura is removing a facet of your existence that is entirely natural for you. It's worse for Psykers though. The stronger a Psyker or the more of them there are, the more of the Warp is straining against reality, perhaps even bursting through it, so the more the balloon is filled – and the more a Pariah squashes out, so the stronger my powers around them."

Samias nodded. He couldn't say he completely understood, but Aurelius's analogy had helped define it better than just being a nebulous part of him.

"That's also how the Animus crystal suppresses my powers," the blonde added, tapping the device. Samias couldn't help but smile this time. Aurelius seemed to forget his socially anxious nature when he was explaining something, his mind on something else than what others would be thinking of him. "It restricts the area that they can inhabit, which in turn weakens them. The less my Null force is able to push out the Warp, the weaker my aura is, so usually reducing the area will limit the "quantity" of Immaterial energy it can replace."

The ganger let out a little hum to show he comprehended it enough that Aurelius wouldn't have to repeat himself. Boiled down to a more rational definition, Samias could understand enough of it, but it didn't explain how it had arisen within Aurelius nor how it affected the boy himself – both physiologically and emotionally.

"Do you know why you're a Pariah? As in, what makes someone become one," Samias questioned, trying his hardest not to be too insensitive on what could be a touchy subject.

Aurelius let out a little, resigned sigh, though whether it was directed at the older boy or his own fate Samias couldn't tell, and leaned back before saying, "Like I said: it's not researched well. Some sources say it is a gene, a mutation similar to what causes psychic powers to manifest – maybe developed as a response to that danger. Others think it is a curse, that we have been cast from the Emperor's light, never to feel the touch of the Astronomican because of some transgression of our parents or world. Yet others consider Nulls to be so dangerous and far removed from humanity that we aren't men at all."

Samias let out a little, incredulous snort, before gazing back at Aurelius and realising he was deadly serious. He thought the mere notion that the Interrogator could be anything less than human was ridiculous. Aurelius was just like the rest of them, only different in his capabilities.

Swiftly cowed by the severity of the blonde's stare, Samias murmured, "Really? There's people that think that?"

"Yes. There's several factions in the Imperium that would have every Pariah culled because of the danger we present to the Astropaths and Navigators which hold the Imperium together," Aurelius spoke softly as Samias's eyes widened in shock.

 _I wouldn't let them._

The thought came unbidden, rushing to the forefront of the eighteen year old's mind before he could source it, sudden protectiveness for the blonde galvanising his emotions. He sat still, trying to soothe the fury which had surged up before he snapped back at Aurelius and made the younger think he was mad at him, not his situation.

 _Come on, get a grip. Julion wouldn't exactly just let that happen to his prized apprentice. What would_ you _do, anyway?_

Once he was certain protective anger wouldn't seep into his tone, Samias turned back to the other boy, scanning his face for any hints of emotion. There wasn't any, and the clinical detachment Aurelius had described how others with knowledge of his nature might consider him told him the boy had already accepted that.

"What do _you_ believe?"

Samias's voice was quieter than he had intended, though he made his eyes encouraging and warm as Aurelius looked back at him, hoping the reddening of his cheeks wasn't too obvious.

"It doesn't matter what I believe," Aurelius shifted his gaze to the window, cold and distant like the pouring rain outside. Samias felt the connection which had begun to manifest between them falling slightly, near-severed by the blonde's sudden reversion to his withdrawn state.

But there, nestled deep within Aurelius's words, was something more, something lonely and vulnerable that was a glimmer of light in an unfeeling void. Before he could second guess himself, Samias reached for it, pressing on, "It does matter, Aurelius. You're the one who lives with it, not them."

The other stared at him, icy eyes fixed on his own as if by force of will they could pierce the ocular nerves and rip out what he truly meant by the words, what Samias wanted from him.

The taller kept his face honest and welcoming, serious but not uncaring or severe. He didn't hide anything from Aurelius, trusting the other boy to come to his own conclusions yet hoping he would trust Samias.

After a moment of intense scrutiny that seemed to stretch out into eons, Aurelius turned away again. He sighed once more, and leaned back to the point where he was half-laid.

"I believe … I believe my condition is a gift from the Emperor," he said, words filled with a quiet conviction which took the ganger aback. Samias had known Aurelius, and pretty much everyone else in service to the Inquisitor, was faithful, but this wasn't quite the same as that.

A certain amount of devotion was expected from those who belonged to organisations serving the Emperor, ingrained into them to a degree Samias had witnessed a few times before. Back when Ecclesiarchy priests still ventured into the underhive, a young Samias had been simultaneously enticed and repulsed by their blind zealotry as they blasted sermons to the poorest of Enchellus. Most had wound up dead, their corpses strung from their makeshift pulpits and their blood used to daub a Red Eye somewhere nearby.

But this gently spoken yet steely faith was something different. He could tell Aurelius chose to believe this, and that choice made it much stronger than any piety which might have been forced into him.

"That He has given myself and other Pariahs these abilities so that we might safeguard humanity from the threat of the Warp," Aurelius clenched his hands, the solemnity dissipating from his words but not the impression they made on Samias and despondent tones filling the gap it left, "What else can I think? That I was cursed with this mutation, this _illness_ that stripped me of a normal life, because of random chance? It's easier to believe there is a good reason for what's happened to me. Otherwise … otherwise … I don't know."

Another sigh, Aurelius tensing with emotion and snapping, "There. Are you happy now?"

Not rising to the sharpness because of how defeated the blonde sounded beneath his scorn, Samias replied with a heartfelt: "Yes. Thanks for sharing that with me."

Samias thought it was the other way round – that there was more strength in thinking he had these dubious gifts to do good, although he could somewhat understand the younger boy's position. He obviously only had a inkling of what it was like, but already knew that Aurelius was partially shunned by the others as a direct result of what he was, and that he had been forced to abandon his brother because of it.

Samias didn't know how many people treated Aurelius as a person before a Pariah, but quietly promised to himself that he wasn't going to be one of them.

Aurelius turned back to him with an apologetic stare, murmuring, "Sorry. It's just … not something I'd usually talk about." He gazed away nervously. "With anyone."

Samias felt touched. He had pressed Aurelius on it, but the boy could have rebuffed him and left. Warmth curled inside of his chest, and he replied, "Well I'm glad you did."

Aurelius snorted, although it wasn't scornful, "And why is that?"

Samias blinked. He hadn't expected to be directly confronted on his reasoning for it, although he supposed that since he had encouraged the blonde to share with him he probably should have, so stuttered the first thing approaching an answer that came into his head, "Well … I like to be someone my friends can feel happy talking to about anything, you know?"

"Your … friends?" came the slightly confused response. Samias felt his heart hammering like he was in an intense combat as blue eyes suffused with innocent curiosity regarded him once more, Aurelius tilting his head to the side towards him this time instead of leaning up, "You think I'm your friend?"

It was an honest question, free of the intense judgement Aurelius usually put towards inquiries but still filled with intrigue. Samias wasn't sure if he was imagining a small, hopeful note within the otherwise neutral words – or if he was projecting his own desires onto the boy.

Due to the way Aurelius had asked, Samias seriously considered it for a moment, as if he didn't already know what he was burning to say.

The two hadn't had the best start, with the Interrogator refusing to interact with him unless it was completely necessary and then their horrible fight. Yet ever since that first moment in the Observatorium Samias had found himself understanding a lot more about the younger teen – and with that understanding came sympathy.

Aurelius had emotions, hidden deep within interlocking layers of his constant Null atmosphere and the cold air he effected, and he had shown them willingly to the ganger. Now he knew why Aurelius had acted the way he did and felt much more comfortable speaking his own mind around the blonde, there wasn't any reason why they couldn't be.

"Sure. I consider you a friend, yeah," Samias grinned confidently in an effort to mask his rising blush, warmth pooling in his cheeks. He hoped it sounded as nonchalant and casual as he had intended.

Perhaps it was premature to consider the other more than an acquaintance after only speaking to him on truly friendly terms a couple of times, and Aurelius would think he was stupid for being too trusting, but right now the Chrome Fang didn't care.

"Huh," was all he got as a reply. Samias tried not to let that dissuade him, aware that even with Aurelius opening up more to him the boy wasn't the most expressive person.

Aurelius shifted slightly and flopped back so that his head was resting on the soft rug and he'd be able to stare directly at Samias instead of having to awkwardly tilt his head. It was the most casual position Samias had ever seen the Interrogator, so taut with concentration he usually was.

He was close, close enough to reach out and touch. Samias had to fight the urge to wrap a gentle arm around the boy's slender shoulders, or even just lightly squeeze one in reassurance.

Aurelius didn't want the older, or anyone, touching him. He wouldn't have appreciated the gesture at all. Samias would have been ready for an intensification of his Pariah aura, would have been fine with it, but didn't dare infringe upon Aurelius's personal space like he had so blatantly done when they fought.

And yet … he wondered what Aurelius would feel like nestled under his arm, whether the boy would be able to relax in the contact and be more at ease.

 _Stop. Just stop thinking about it. Aurelius explicitly told you not to. It would ruin whatever friendship we have._

"Are you ok, Samias?" Aurelius suddenly asked, making the other boy wonder how long they had stayed silent for. His heart skipped a beat, questioning whether his indecision and inner turmoil had shown, though when he looked over at the other Aurelius's gaze was still towards the window. Asking about him wasn't what Samias had come to expect from the Interrogator.

"Y-yeah, why?" he shot back shakily, not quite as assuredly as he had hoped for.

"It's just … we always seem to talk about me. But you're up at night just the same."

"That's 'cause you're so mysterious," Samias joked, smirking as Aurelius gave him a look which bordered on exasperation, "And besides, only one of us here is an adult. If anything, you should be the one in bed, kiddo."

" _Please_ don't call me that," Aurelius groaned, provoking a mischievous chuckle from the older boy, "Why not? It's fitting for someone so young."

"Maybe from someone who actually acted their age," the Interrogator shot back. Samias gasped in mock offence, "Excuse me? I act very adult."

"Uh huh. And that's why you play fight and wrestle with Michael about … once every five minutes when you're with him?"

"There isn't anything wrong with a little rough housing. It's a bonding activity," Samias protested with a grin, "Of course, maybe _you_ wouldn't understand that, since we're both adults and you're just a little kid."

He blinked, realising what he'd just said and rushing to apologise, all hints of playful teasing gone, "I didn't mean that seriously. It's not like you're really missing out on-"

"Samias," Aurelius's clear voice cut through his abashed stream of words, "I know."

The ganger nodded, even if the blonde's gaze was in the opposite direction.

"Seriously though. Are you alright?" The younger of the two sat up, pinning Samias to the floor with an intense stare.

Grinning internally, Samias barely managed a neutral expression as he replied calmly, "Why do you care?" in an imitation of Aurelius's own tone.

"I don't. I was just returning the courtesy. I won't ask next time," the other boy muttered coldly, narrowing his eyes.

 _Ouch_. That certainly hadn't worked. It was obvious Aurelius had no more patience for teasing tonight.

"Hey!" Samias placated, a little stung. The younger's eyes softened, enough for him to know Aurelius hadn't meant to be so harsh even as he pouted.

"I'm fine. I just couldn't sleep, that's all," he filled the quiet which had returned, needing to respond to the gesture of empathy Aurelius had favoured him with. Samias made his eyes sincere and his voice softly firm as he caught the other boy's gaze, "I appreciate you asking"

"Uh … It's nothing," Aurelius averted his eyes before turning his head away, embarrassed, "You do it all the time."

 _That is true,_ Samias reflected. It didn't negate the fact that Aurelius showed his concern and compassion for others in ways different to words.

"It's all so surreal," he admitted after a moment. It was odd that he had caved to the Interrogator's questions after minutes of the conversation diverting, yet Samias felt almost compelled to share why he was up this late with the blonde. That, and the ever-present loss which assaulted him at night, but he didn't want Aurelius to feel even more guilty. "I mean, I'm just a normal underhiver, and now suddenly the fate of the world partially rests on my actions. It's probably pretty standard for you guys, right? But it doesn't feel like I should have this kind of responsibility"

Aurelius pushed himself up the mat, resting his cheek on his hand and tiredly regarding the bigger of the two, his voice so quiet as he spoke "You aren't normal, Samias."

"Thanks," the addressed deadpanned sardonically, only managing to retain a blank expression for a second or two before breaking out in a grin as Aurelius stammered nervously, "N-not like that! I didn't mean it like that."

 _Emperor, he's so adorable when he's like this._ Samias didn't even try to force down the affectionate thought, grinning like an idiot as the other boy curled in on himself, unable to meet Samias's eyes as he continued just as timidly, "You're brave, almost stupidly so. You risked your life for us in Elestra and then just me as we fled to the starport. And you put your comrades – your _friends_ – above yourself. That makes you special."

Samias wondered what the others would think if he died right here, his over-exerted heart finally getting the better of him. His cheeks felt so hot he was surprised there wasn't steam rising from them, and he opened his mouth to respond before swiftly shutting it as no words came.

"Uh … thanks," he near-stuttered, his mind vacant of any meaningful responses, scratching the back of his short hair. Aurelius was blushing as well, almost hidden underneath his arm that the boy had buried his face in, obviously unused to doling out compliments.

Samias's thoughts were static, and it couldn't be completely blamed on Aurelius's aura. He smiled, feeling more confident now it was certain Aurelius didn't think ill of him (or at least not much), and offered, "You're special too. And not because you're a Pariah."

The younger stayed silent, most likely electing to ignore the words or too tired to try and refute them as Samias knew he would want to. Or maybe he was self-conscious; the ganger couldn't be sure without seeing his face fully, and wasn't about to move into such an obvious position to see.

"… Please don't tell anyone about what I've said tonight," Aurelius muttered, caught between melancholy and quiet contentment, the conflicting emotions raindrops rippling atop the blank glass of his tone. He sat up again, bringing knees to his chest, as if the act of relaxation was taxing him.

"Why, don't want them to know you have a softer side?" Samias gently ribbed. He wasn't asking the question to decide whether or not he obeyed the request – the ganger wouldn't have shared it whether or not Aurelius cared – but simply because he was curious. And he felt more at ease teasing the other boy now when it was just the two of them.

"They … wouldn't understand," the blonde hesitated, as if struggling to articulate his thoughts. For once quiet because he couldn't find the words and not because he didn't want to speak.

 _I'm not even sure you do._ The statement was implied, left unspoken, but somehow Samias knew that it would be what Aurelius was thinking.

"It's alright. I won't tell anyone," he smiled reassuringly at Aurelius as the boy looked in his direction, blue eyes twinkling with gratitude.

 _I might not understand, Aurelius. I can't promise I ever will. But I'll try to. That I can promise._

He locked eyes with the other once again, feeling the urge to gaze away rising in his stomach before the urge to lose himself forever in them slowly triumphed over it. Samias was too busy to notice Aurelius having the same quandary.

The blonde was the one to break it off, lowering his eyes meekly, though not before a small smile had played around his lips. Samias looked away a second later, tempted to hide his face that he could tell was blushing furiously, disguising it with an almost cocky comment of: "So, same time tomorrow then?"

"For what?"

Samias rolled his eyes at the genuine confusion inflecting Aurelius's tone, "You know, for someone so smart, you can be pretty oblivious."

"Huh?" Samias internally grimaced at the innocent bewilderment on the younger's face as turned round, wondering if he'd made the wrong move with the teasing, before Aurelius's gaze became annoyed and he pouted, "You just said "same time tomorrow" without any context or anything? Same time for what?"

"For this. For … you know … chatting," Samias scratched the back of his head and tilted his chin as the boy's eyes bored into him. _Fuck. "Chatting?" Really?_

"It's nice to get to know you better," he added when the Interrogator's uncompromising, intense stare hadn't relented. "When we're in missions it's kind of difficult to talk to you."

"Sorry," Aurelius muttered. Samias marvelled at how quickly he could morph from emotionless and severe to shy and self-conscious when it was just the two of them, flitting between the side visible to everyone else and the softer one he'd chosen to share with Samias.

He'd most likely thought Samias was calling him unapproachable. Such wasn't entirely inaccurate, but it hadn't stopped him from trying.

"I didn't mean you specifically. Just that it's not really the time," he wondered if he'd get away with that, considering he had attempted to breach conversation with Aurelius in situations that weren't wholly appropriate before.

"Oh. Ok. Sure. We can do this again," he paused, before yawning and adding, "If you can't sleep."

Samias got the impression Aurelius was unsure why he would rather be talking to him than Val or Mikey. His childhood friends would certainly be there for him if he needed them – as would he for them – but he didn't particularly want to share his worries to them knowing they carried the same trauma. And he'd rather stay as strong as he could in front of those two, present himself as a bastion of encouragement and strength that they could draw from.

Aurelius was … different. Maybe it was because the younger had chosen to confide in him in a way it was painfully evident he hadn't had the chance to with anyone else, but Samias felt he'd be able to open up to the other boy without feeling judged.

And then there was the other matter that Aurelius would need someone to talk to as well instead of squeezing it inside of his slender frame like he would have done for years, that the rare emotion Aurelius showed was something that made Samias's heart melt. Every small smile, every time those blue eyes lit up with fleeting contentment felt like a victory.

"Um. Are you listening to me?" Samias shot out of his short reverie, fixing Aurelius with a surprised stare. He hadn't realised the other had said something else, too accustomed to him generally only speaking in short bursts unless asked a question.

"Nah, sorry. Too busy thinking about how lucky I am that you want to spend more time with someone as old as me, kiddo," he teased, suppressing laughter at the near-demonic glare the other threw his way.

Electing to pretend he hadn't heard it, Aurelius repeated what he'd said earlier with a sleepy yawn, "Do you think we should get some sleep? Not that I don't want to be around you – though I can't fathom _why_ – but I don't think the Inquisitor would approve if we stayed here all night."

Hiding his disappointment at the entirely reasonable suggestion, Samias nodded, a slightly caring note in his voice, "Go to bed if you want to, Aurelius. I don't mind."

"You'll be okay?"

 _Why is he so adorable when he's tired?_

Choosing not to tease Aurelius for his concern nor the way he sleepily rubbed his eyes, Samias nodded again. "Yeah. I'm not going to stay up for long."

Aurelius rose slowly, taking a few steps before stopping as if indecisive about his resolution to try and sleep.

Samias almost wanted him to stay, even as he felt exhaustion having its way with him – an effect almost certainly exacerbated in the other boy considering his more strenuous day. But he didn't want Aurelius to suffer because of him, though wouldn't mind talking a bit longer with him. Fatigue wasn't beneficial in their line of work, that was for certain.

The blonde looked as if he wanted to say something, words trapped just behind his lips. He didn't know how long Aurelius would stay there, caught in shy hesitation, so smiled and spoke, "Goodnight, Aurelius. Sleep well."

"… You too, Samias."

He didn't move, still rooted to the spot, hands twisting inside of his pockets nervously. Samias favoured him with a gentle look, wondering how best to encourage the awkward youth to speak what was on his mind.

"Aurelius-"

"Thank you for calling me your friend," the boy blurted out. Samias blinked at the interruption, but before he could reply Aurelius had already gone. He watched the empty space he had left, the door swinging slowly from where the blonde had ghosted past it.

It was all too cute, though it still made Samias somewhat angry – that it was agonisingly obvious Aurelius hadn't experienced proper friendship for a long time. All he was doing was treating the seventeen year old the way he would treat anyone else … well … perhaps slightly nicer. But the point still stood.

Being with Aurelius was unlike anything else he'd experienced. Once he got past the initial discomfort, coaxing the boy out of his shell was a rewarding, but difficult, task. He could tell they were making progress, that their relationship was solidifying into a strange friendship, but they still had a long way to go before Aurelius was entirely at ease around him and knew he was appreciated.

It was almost, in its own way, a sort of challenge. And one thing Samias knew for certain about himself was that he never backed down from a challenge.


	10. Highborn

" _In the evolutionary history of a great many species, there has always existed a simple hierarchy: those who serve, and those who are served. In turn, those who are served devote their efforts to the survival and prosperity of their servants. Ignorance of this cyclical necessity is a defect entirely unique to mankind." – attributed to Biologician-Scholar Arenea Varndus, M3._

"I never thought I'd be doing anything like this. I mean, I don't really know how well I can pull of a serving boy," Michael's voice interrupted Aurelius's train of thought as he scanned the notes Udanya had compiled of the targets of most interest that would be attending the afterparty reception.

He had to admire the other Interrogator's attention to detail. Several factors – such as apparent personality traits, and the general perception of the person in question from those she had been able to glean the information from – had been recorded which he would have omitted, unsure of their relevance.

But then, he clearly still had much to learn in navigating the intricacies of social situations now that he was an Interrogator. No longer would being hidden in the back of the group away from anyone he could discomfort suffice.

"Uh, hey?" Aurelius gazed up from the carefully constructed files, angling it past the ganger instead of towards him when Michael averted his eyes nervously. He could have said he'd hoped his silence would have dissuaded the other from continuing to broach conversation, but in all honesty he had forgotten the boy had spoken – an instinctive part of his brain parsing the noise as directed to someone else and thus dismissing it.

"Got any tips for me? For, uh … blending in as part of the staff?" he asked, quivers of anxiety rippling through the words. Aurelius couldn't tell if that was a result of him or apprehension of their dangerous task.

While it was true that another pair of ears – more precisely, another holder of the vox transmitter they had stashed in their uniforms – would allow them to cover much more area, he wished that he was doing the mission solo. Or at least with someone other than the least reliable of the Chrome Fangs.

Michael, hair dyed dark brown to better disguise him as an unassuming servant, was not someone Aurelius was fully decided upon yet.

His opinion ranged from burden that they were forced to carry to acquire the other Fangs to inexperienced but could potentially be an asset. He only hoped Michael didn't let his nerves spoil their infiltration, though supposed that was probably why the youth was looking to him for guidance.

"Just … stay completely silent unless you are asked a question that can't be answered with a gesture," Aurelius supplied, "Such is to be expected from a servant. There won't be any need for anything suspicious; remain close to the targets of interest or anyone you think is having an important conversation."

"Got it, thanks," the other gave him an attempted smile malformed from a grimace, though Aurelius wasn't intending to lower his aura's intensity in preparation for the hours of maximum suppression to come.

Both of the boys were dressed in immaculate white suits – liberated from the original recipients of the garments who had been all too happy to acquiesce with some gilded persuasion – with a Camellia flower stitched onto the right chest pocket and white gloves.

The fabric of the gloves itched, but it was a price Aurelius was willing to pay in order to have gloves at all, an extra barrier between the most conductive part of his body and anyone unfortunate enough to come into contact with it. The Animus crystal was also thankfully covered by the suit's collar.

The suits weren't exactly as they had obtained them – several interior pockets had been invisibly sewn onto the inside of their shirts and trousers, containing Aurelius's trusty knife, the miniaturised vox recorder/transmitter, a set of psychoviral mind cleansers (should he need to be more direct in extracting a confession) and the individual components to construct an Ementio-pattern hellpistol. The firearm, much smaller than his usual armament, was a favourite of assassins and espionage agents – boasting the same raw strength as a usual hot-shot lasgun but with a significantly reduced capacity.

Besides a little smartening up the Interrogator hadn't had to spare much attention towards looking the part of the perfect serving staff. Michael, on the other hand, had relinquished his silver hair and its wild, unkempt style and length in favour of a neater brown cut (which Samias had poked fun at the first time he saw it).

The ganger was clearly very unaccustomed to the finery, fidgeting constantly and messing with his hair.

"Try to keep your expressions as neutral as possible," he directed, doing exactly that as he spoke.

"Shit, I guess that makes sense. I'm not an expert at that though, not like you anyway."

Aurelius concealed a frown. It wasn't too late for him to ask Julion to keep Michael from this disguised infiltration; the Inquisitor would trust his student's judgement if he seriously thought the Fang would be too significant of a burden for them even if the man believed Michael had potential and wanted it fulfilling.

"Anything else?"

"Don't stare for too long at anything. Just follow my lead."

Aurelius eyed the door to the changing room as it swung open, not surprised in the slightest to see Samias entering with a smile on his face and severity in his eyes.

"You two look pretty smart," he began to speak with a customary teasing lilt to his voice before it tapered off halfway into the words, his eyes drifting from his friend to Aurelius.

"Couldn't have knocked, big guy? What if we were still changing?" Michael jeered, rising from where he was sat, "Or maybe that's wha-"

"Oh yeah? I'm sure I wouldn't have been scarred _that_ much by how skinny you both are," Samias interrupted him, reaching for the ganger in what would assuredly spark some bout of playful wrestling.

"Don't," Aurelius ordered. They needed to look as unruffled as possible before their infiltration of the serving staff began; the blonde was aware of how difficult it had been for Michael to reach this state from Udanya's offhand complaints.

Suitably chastised, Samias slunk back, eyes down like a scolded puppy. Aurelius made an effort to soften his gaze, hoping to approach something at least mildly reminiscent of kindness, asking, "What do you- Did you want something?"

"Just came to check up on you guys is all," Samias said, "See your disguises before you have to leave. Never thought I'd ever see Mikey look anything like smart."

Aurelius took a moment to examine the boy's features as Michael bantered with him back. It wasn't unusual of Samias to do this, from what he could gather, though underneath the easy confidence was something more forced.

This was his way of coping with what he had endured – Samias had told him as much, forcing positivity and friendliness to ward off anger and despair, basic human deficiencies Aurelius was unfortunately not removed from despite his differences.

Aurelius isolated himself to escape from the trauma of loss, Samias pulled those he had left closer. While the Inquisitor's band had moved on from the underhive violence without another word, it would be unfair to expect those much more linked to it to do the same so soon.

Samias obviously hadn't. The dark circles around his eyes attested to that.

"Aurelius will take care of you, won't you?" the blonde focused back on the present, Samias's warm grin telling him the other knew he had drifted.

Michael appeared unconvinced. He didn't yet trust Aurelius, which was wise of him. Only Samias had overcome the empty horror pooling beneath his skin to fully interact with the Null.

He gave a curt nod. Michael was his responsibility as the senior member of the Inquisition on the mission, though try as he might he couldn't make himself consider the boy a disposable asset. Not when Samias had him fixed in those earnest eyes.

Being relatively close with some else again was unnerving to the Interrogator. It had been over a solar year since Medlia's Sepulchre, since what he could consider a friendship with Mattias had been abruptly cut short, but he didn't know if he was ready for another.

"See? Nothing to worry about," Samias assured his friend, grinning almost conspiratorially at Aurelius as if they were sharing a private joke. Aurelius kept his face passive instead of confused, not knowing the best way to react to Samias's method of socialising now that he had made the decision to keep on the good side of the Chrome Fang.

Before Samias could say anything else, the Interrogator cut in, "We should move. I'd rather we got to the spirelift stations early to make sure we aren't delayed by potential overcrowding."

"Stay safe," Samias gave him a serious look, eyes full of a genuine concern for Aurelius.

The younger was unsure how to respond to the conflicting, confusing emotions that roiled in his gut that gaze brought out.

"The Emperor protects," he muttered, his usual ardent faith in the words deflated by his uncertainty. Samias merely smiled back, though the expression was trapped within his lips.

.*.*.*.

The kitchens of the Whitewater Halls were saturated with nervous energy, frantic chefs spitting terse orders at their menials in the race to prepare the nourishment for the Halls' guests. Professional efficiency duelled with agitation borne from a fear for the consequences of failing to live up to the standards required by their esteemed patrons, their battleground the ever-growing array of culinary delights assembling like the muster of flawless soldiers before the address that would send them hurtling into war.

That same nervous energy afflicted the pristine white ranks of attendants and servers waiting on the threshold of the room, their anxious silence almost deafeningly loud in relation to the storm of activity they bore witness to.

Aurelius allowed some of the very real apprehension he could have been feeling to play across his features, blinking nervously as he shifted a somewhat timid gaze across the food and drinks his cohort would soon be serving to the nobility of Hive Enchellus. He was sure that the mask would soon fall across the staff when it came to ministering to their guests, stress replaced by nothing but a carefully curated image of humble servitude.

In such a situation, the effects of his severely reduced Null aura could be blamed on sheer nerves, its inherent wrongness that would be permeating the minds of the other staff stood close to him passed off as the tension from knowledge that they were hours away from the most important event in at least half a century.

There was twenty-five of the waiters in total – all young, ranging from a year or so younger than Aurelius to what he would guess at around twenty two. Enough staff to ensure that all of the aristocrats were being served at all times, but not so many that their presence would be noticeable.

The Interrogator meticulously counted everything in the kitchen: the number of males and females, the quantity of dishes segregated into types, the number of waiters assigned to each set of food.

One of the first and most important tenets for recognising the taint of the Enemy taught to acolytes of the Ordo Hereticus was the significance of numbers. Six, seven, eight and nine, each of the vile pantheon of Chaos had a numerical value of especial perversity associated with it, often concealed within otherwise innocuous circumstances or hidden behind layers of equation in more deep-rooted heresy.

Aurelius paid particular attention to scouring for any hint of the first – six was the unholy number of Slaanesh, the false deity of excess and indulgence. The Prince of Pleasure's taint was rife in the aristocracy of hives such as this one, nobles accustomed to a life of luxury falling quickly into decadence if left unchecked.

From what he had witnessed so far, temperance was a rare quality within the highest reaches of Hive Enchellus.

No permutation of the values he was counting led to any of the four numbers, though that in itself meant little. Chaos could hide anywhere, and patterns could be found by anyone searching with enough obsession – a road that led to nothing but madness and likely damnation in itself. The duty of the Ordo Hereticus was to separate genuine blasphemy from random occurrences.

He focused his attention as the head of the staff (who had ordered them assembled here) paced in front of them and began to list off orders to groups of three that he selected seemingly at random. Aurelius watched as Michael, his youthful face painfully expressionless, was called upon alongside two young women for serving skewers of some sort of meat bedecked in spices. It must have been imported from another world, as the only animals Aurelius had seen on Karvonis IV were sickened and malformed by pollution. Unfortunately, their own supply of off world meats had ran dry the night they had encountered the underhive trio, consigning the Inquisitorial group to the synthetic nutrient blocks consumed by the rest of the populace.

He'd purposefully spoken nothing to the Chrome Fang during their admittance to the halls that were an offshoot of the main governor's palace, and situated himself far away from Michael. It wouldn't be useful for the effective radii of the vox beads to overlaps, and so for maximum coverage they needed to be chosen for different tasks.

While the Inquisitor or another of the retinue would be at their current base listening in on their progress, the quality of the transmissions from such tiny devices could be laced with broadcast interference – thus returning with the beads would allow the information they would soon contain to be analysed more thoroughly.

The blonde was quickly put to work himself with a platter of obviously alcoholic drinks, striding carefully into the main hall to avoid spilling the delicate crystalline glasses.

 _Thank the Emperor Michael was given something solid._

Despite what their espionage had unmistakeably entailed, for some reason cognizance of the fact they actually had to perform the job they were pretending to do had escaped him during their preparation. It was a stroke of luck that his somewhat clumsy counterpart hadn't been burdened with the same task as him.

The guests, clad in huge variety of outfits that all essentially boiled down to the same concept of dressing to impress, were seated around circular tables etched with silver and inlaid with glittering gemstones. They were dotted irregularly round the main hall, its large windows streaming with artificial luminescence from the lights laid in the domed ceiling of the outer garden. This simulated sun, golden and cold, bathed all in its unreal magnificence, whilst holograms projecting a flawless sky hid the pounding rain from waste-choked clouds.

Plants, exotic merely by their very existence in this wretched hive, coiled round like emerald snakes, drawing one's eyes outside to the full display surrounding the hall. Many of the invited were stood, lining the pathways in and out of the central building and dotted within the garden, taking in the luxurious surroundings ( _in comparison to the rest of the hive_ ) with little more than a glance.

There were several figures the Interrogator recognised from the datafiles of high ranking individuals of the hive – Adrean Camellia, general of the PDF militia who had clearly never been in a fight himself let alone marshalled an army into action and Lametis Yuran, head of the Administratum branch of Enchellus at the first table he was to serve alone.

It seemed every important member of the nobilitae and the Imperial Adepta – though the two were inbred and intertwined at this point – had come to celebrate the coronation of Lyrae Camellia. The old Lord Governor, Johnast Camellia, had finally succumbed to his years a few days after the Inquisitor's planetfall, and no foul-play had been suspected in his ending.

It had been expected another Camellia inherit the role; while old Johnast was of their blood his reign had been defined more by personal selfishness than that of the family's benefit. Lyrae, from what Aurelius had heard, was a typical noblewoman of Camellia – overindulged but still intelligent and ruthless, devoted to the house ostensibly only slightly less than the Imperium.

What had been apparently unexpected was that Maximlus Camellia, the new governor's father, had been presumed to be the one to be inducted to the position once Johnast finally relinquished it. That his daughter had been chosen was hardly the twist courtiers Udanya had mingled with claimed it to be – it was a puppeteer's hallmark, allowing him to manipulate the ruling of the hive without any of the scrutiny.

If the dealings with the Red Eyes and the Enslaver plots ran as deep as the Inquisitor feared it did, the governor's immediate family would be the best bet to investigate.

The boy strode lightly into the "outside" area, keeping his head down and eyes averted as he silently obeyed requests for drinks, listening intently to the buzz of conversation around him.

"And you wouldn't have believed the look on her face-"

"You simply _must_ show us some of your paintings soon-"

"That fool Errybon has demonstrated his ineptitude at running the refineries from the moment he was promoted, but between you and me-"

 _All irrelevant_.

Aurelius wasn't expecting anyone to be loudly announcing their involvement in a highly heretical plot to use extremely unstable warp xenos to some unknown end, but even the mention of underhanded dealings were simply heads of factorium blocks cutting corners or illicit activities in the pleasure district.

 _I need to find someone of actual importance_.

The blonde finished with the current group of guests, who paid as little attention to him as they would a potted plant, making his way further into the gardens – cultivated carefully to give the impression of wild growth whilst being anything but. The greenery was a welcome relief from the industrial sickness customary to hive cities, the flora of distant worlds twisting unobtrusively across his path.

His eyes were drawn to a sinister glinting of a familiar crimson, observing as a handsome young man lounging against a tree imbibed a small vial of pure red that pulsed vibrantly in the artificial sunlight. Aurelius quickly looked away before he attracted attention. He knew already that the Red EX – though this variety did not seem quite as crude as those taken by the underhivers – was highly demanded in the upper hives and only growing in popularity.

To see it so openly seemed somehow wrong, though with the noble's eyes only slightly reddening it was safe to assume the dosage was significantly less than that injected within the undercity.

He lingered for a few seconds, wondering if the man and his partner would perhaps discuss the drug, before moving on when it appeared they only wished to bask in the perverse sensation.

The Null carefully navigated a set of curling roots draped across the footpath, before his eyes caught sight of a target of interest. There, reclined around a table bathed in false sunlight, was Maximlus Camellia, the ascendant patriarch of the most powerful noble house in the system. Noticeably absent from the table but almost certainly in attendance was his wife, although all those sat with the governor's father were of a close relation.

Another waiter stood silently beside them, offering a platter of exotic fruits cultivated in these gardens probably worth more than the entirety of the serving staff with how dire the planet's ecology was outside of this near insignificant region. Aurelius meandered in their direction, ensuring he served anyone in his path requesting a drink but otherwise not waiting unnoticed beside them as he should. He took a route that would leave him in earshot of these Camellia potentates, knowing the vox bead in his pocket had a similar radius and would be recording all that they spoke of whilst transmitting it to the Inquisitor back at their current base.

"It's such a shame dear Kariyen couldn't make it," a woman, appearing middle aged but with the greying hair of considerable maturity rejuvenat treatments couldn't hide doled out with exaggerated discontent. If the Interrogator remembered correctly, she was Austeria Camellia, cousin of Maximlus, sat alongside her husband Sigismund, also a cousin but of different parents.

Her words provoked raucous laughter from those around her, her own face set in a nasty smile.

"Yes, well, my beloved daughter has "more important matters" to attend to," Maximlus chuckled, his voice deep and immersed in aristocratic superiority. He shifted his rather substantial bulk, a form that may well have been muscular in earlier years (though by design, not through toil) deflated somewhat. "I'm sure it has nothing to do with the role of governor passing to her sister."

Kariyen Camellia's absence was indeed noteworthy, though petty envy as Maximlus described ran rife in pampered nobility that had gone too long without sacrificing for the Emperor.

More chuckles from the gathered family members, Aurelius nearing the table now and absorbing every word of their conversation. He took up a position next to the other servant, the older boy's eyes brushing over him for a second before returning to their averted angle. The Interrogator followed suit, casting his gaze to the ground with deference these Camellias did not deserve.

"Ah, drinks have arrived. Right on time," a nephew of Maximlus spoke up, younger but no less corpulent than his uncle. His eyes lanced into the blonde, who meekly stepped forwards, hoping none of the Camellias had some minor psychic power that would make his presence extremely uncomfortable, and began placing the crystalline glasses in front of the guests as he stepped round the table.

"Well aren't you an exquisite little thing," Maximlus uttered, words cloying and flooded with a resonance Aurelius couldn't identify. Thinking he was addressing the elegant glass, the boy was surprised to see the Camellia's eyes lying on him as he looked up.

Taken aback, Aurelius merely kept his expression neutral, mentally running through his contingency plan for their cover being blown. One of the other nobles sniggered as Maximlus continued, "Really, I must inquire where they source some of these servants from. You're the prettiest thing I've seen in a long while. Surely you're not from the dirt of the hive?"

He couldn't help but blink in stunned confusion. He flicked his gaze to the other Camellias, not caring if he was being disrespectful as he did so. They had returned to their conversation, paying the apparent servant little interest, though a few regarded Maximlus with an exasperated roll of their eyes. The other waiter kept his gaze firmly, too firmly, rooted to the ground.

"What's your name, boy?" Maximlus's eyes were filled with something akin to adoration, too many intertwined layers of emotion and intent for Aurelius to pick apart with his limited social knowledge.

"E-Endreas, sir," he stuttered, his hesitation genuine though the passing of the false name of his lips was. Maximlus merely smiled, rising to his feet and towering over the blonde in both height and bulk. "Well then, Endreas, I'd like you to come with me."

He followed meekly as the man led him back into the main hall, feeling many sets of eyes spearing into his back before being quickly averted. He didn't know at all what Maximlus was planning nor where he was being led, but presented was an unprecedented opportunity to glean information from the Camellia patriarch.

Aurelius caught a worried glance from Michael, the boy distracted from his servitude to cast his gaze towards the blonde and the aristocrat. He merely raised his eyebrows in a quick response, asserting that their cover hadn't been peeled away and that the ganger should return to his duties.

Maximlus took him out of a door to the side, leading the boy up to a second floor that, from his studying of the building's plans, served as private accommodation for those guests who had travelled far for the celebrations.

The man hadn't spoken since what was essentially an order for Aurelius to accompany him, though he often looked back at the Interrogator as if ensuring he hadn't scampered away whilst his back was turned.

Striding to one of the doors, Maximlus typed in the passcode to the room (that he quickly committed to memory) before beckoning Aurelius inside as the door opened.

"Come in."

A small surge of unwanted trepidation coiled in Aurelius's gut as he stepped past the leaning figure of the Camellia, too close for comfort even with the Animus on its greatest level of suppression. It should have sparked even just a light twinge of revulsion from the man, but whatever fixation Maximlus had on the blonde didn't ebb despite their momentary proximity.

The room was rather pleasant, ambiently lit by soft orange, with a comfortable looking bed to one side. Aurelius turned back to Maximlus as the man shut the door behind them, his eyes still clinging to the boy's smaller form as if it was irresistible.

Now the attention was beginning to unease Aurelius, who almost wanted to grip the handle of his trusty knife as if the prospect of killing the noble would provide any form of relief. Instead he stayed rooted to the spot as Maximlus walked passed him, taking a seat on the side of the bed that creaked under his weight.

"Take of your clothes," he commanded, so abruptly Aurelius was caught completely off guard.

"Si-sir?" He bade the sudden influx of emotions to silence themselves, base human reactions to what some primal part of him knew was danger screaming in his ears. He was above this petty weakness, and knew what he was doing.

 _I'm in control._

"What the hell do you think we pay you for, to question? Get those off," Maximlus snarled, all polite pretences evaporating and his smile twisting into a scowl. Aurelius knew the door behind him would be locked, tempted as he was to try the handle. He gulped.

 _Stop beating so fast. I'm in control. This goes how I_ _decide it goes._

Frozen to the spot with what must have looked like fear, Maximlus made a frustrated noise, gripping the side of the bed and growling, "Are you dumb, boy? Take. Them. Off. Don't make me repeat myself."

Aurelius did as he was asked, letting the uniform slide to the floor, his blade and the components for his stealth laspistol now at a pile by his feet. _I don't need them. I_ am _the weapon._

The Animus collar was the only thing remaining, and he hoped Maximlus wasn't about to question it when he'd done as he was instructed otherwise.

Maximlus's eyes widened, the gleam of them becoming ravenous as he murmured, "Oh, I definitely made the right choice with you."

Aurelius stood, awkwardly, intentionally curling inwards to shield himself from the predatory gaze as Maximlus repeated the boy's earlier actions, revealing a form the boy tried not to look at too closely. It wasn't his first time seeing the bare human form – cultists of Slaanesh had a particular penchant for leaving their victims in such a state – but it was the first in this context.

 _I'm in control._ He repeated the words as a mantra, perhaps to disguise from how anxiety that he could ignore flooded through his veins or perhaps to push down the fact that his condition had forced him into experiencing _this_ for the first time in a mission, not out of his own volition.

"Come here," Maximlus instructed, his anticipation-filled voice imbued with an authority unused to disobedience. Aurelius did as he was asked, perching where Maximlus beckoned him to the other side of the bed, his form slender and frail. "Don't be so shy, boy. You should enjoy this while it lasts."

He didn't know exactly what the Camellia wanted to do with him, though the thought of both that and the inevitable conclusion Aurelius wasn't the first filled him with disgust (and fear). He didn't care.

Maximlus reached towards him with a large hand. No sooner had the man's thick fingers brushed against the back of his neck before Aurelius violently twisted the Animus crystal and propelled himself forwards, pinning the noble down with an arm pressed against his fat throat.

Darkness rose from his pale skin like smoke from a burn victim, more wisps of it shrouding his form, restrained just to the edge. Maximlus screamed, or at least would have done if Aurelius wasn't pressuring his windpipe, writhing and cavorting with sheer terror underneath the boy.

The man pressed his hands to his head, tears streaming from his eyes as the Null horror afflicted him, the silence of an empty void amplifying his stifled sobs, thrashing his bulk. Aurelius pinioned the Camellia down, his methodical and precise movements cutting through the panicked resistance and utterly overpowering them.

He ignored the sensation of Maximlus's bare skin on his, removing his slender forearm from the man's throat and instead placing a hand over his mouth.

" _P-p-please …_ " Maximlus's pleas were muffled but still audible, his flailing ceasing as he crumpled in on himself in surrender as much as he could with the Interrogator keeping him still. Unbridled horror had overtaken the mania which had afflicted him during his soul's exposure to the cold of nothingness, and as if by curling into a foetal position he would escape the blanket of unnatural darkness suffocating them both.

"Do not worry. I'm not going to kill you," Aurelius stated in a voice that was anything but soothing, slowly releasing his hand when it became evident Maximlus wasn't about to start shrieking and suppressing a shudder at the strings of saliva that coated his fingers. "I have some questions that need answering. Comply, and you will be spared."

"What the hell are you?" the noble's voice shook, his eyes darting anywhere but Aurelius's own – the boy keeping his soulless gaze fixed on the man's face.

"I am the one asking the questions," he leaned forwards, hating how despite his knowledge of what Maximlus would have done to him – taken advantage of his apparent powerlessness in the situation – he still pitied and despised the way he shuddered beneath him, pressing himself further down into the bed.

 _The Emperor gave me this gift to use it, did He not? I'm in control now._

"First: what do you know of the upper hive's dealings with the Red Eyes and the distribution of Red EX throughout Enchellus?"

"I … we … they …" Maximlus panted out the words, on the cusp of hyperventilation. Aurelius grabbed his pudgy face, forcing it in his direction, "Answer the question and I will not harm you. You don't want to know what happens if you fail to."

He didn't want to hurt the governor's father, if only because it would somewhat counteract his plan to mindwipe him once they were finished. Maximlus swallowed, the direct threat to his health hopefully focusing his mind.

"I'll tell you anything, I'll give you anything, I promise," he sobbed, risking a glance at his assailant who merely cocked his head to the side impatiently.

"The Red Eyes, right? I-I don't do the ordering of Red EX myself – that's handled by the Arbites, my half cousin Reesain, and they usually acquire it in District Veneratia. I don't know what we give the Red Eyes exactly, probably weapons and gear and money – d-do you want any money? Just name your pric-"

"Focus," Aurelius ensured the word was laden with power, cutting through the desperate ramblings, "The truth is all I ask for. Lie to me, and I will know. Second question: are you the culprit of or working with a party that has been transporting xenos Enslavers throughout the hive?"

"X-xenos? I don't know anything about Enslavers, please, please, please honestly I know nothing about this," Maximlus took on a grovelling tone as the blonde's gaze bored into him and his grip tightened, "Don't hurt me, please don't hurt me."

"Are you certain you know nothing? No one in your family acting suspiciously?"

"I swear to you by all that is holy I haven't heard about Enslavers – o-or any xenos being transported," Maximlus cringed back as if sensing Aurelius's displeasure, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. The boy merely brought his free hand up to the crystal at his throat, minutely adjusting the device to release a little more of his Null power, although there was little suppression left that he could remove by himself – Julion in possession of the final safeguard that would allow his soulless nature to truly flourish.

"Think more about it. It is very important you give me a truthful answer to this question," he watched with dispassionate self-loathing as Maximlus made a horrible noise between a choked gurgle and a whimper of pain. There was a careful balance to maintain – he needed to be intimidating, needed Maximlus to know he held the fragile thread of his decadent life, but inspiring too much fear would cause the noble to begin desperately lying to him in a pathetic attempt to answer the interrogation in any way possible.

Aurelius would see through any ramshackle deceit, but it would still be wasting time.

"I've t-t-told you, I don't know. Wait. Maybe … Kariyen?"

"Kariyen?"

"Yes, Kariyen, my other daughter. She's not here. She's always acting strangely, and she refused to come to this celebration of her sister's coronation. We passed her up for it because we can't control her, you see? It could be her, plotting against us," now that Maximlus had managed to grab onto one rational thought the words flooded out, "If anyone has done dealings with xenos it would be her. I know nothing about it."

Aurelius believed him. A man such as him, weak-willed and self-serving, would have spilled all of his darkest secrets about the Enslaver plot the second he was told it would remove the threat to his life.

He had District Veneratia as the point for the smuggling of Red EX out of the underhive, and Kariyen Camellia as a potential lead in the heresy, but otherwise he was disappointed with what he had obtained from an otherwise influential figure in Enchellus.

There were bigger players than the Camellias on Karvonis IV, he was certain of that now. Maximlus, with his daughter's ascendance, was poised to become perhaps the most powerful man on the planet if not in the system. Yet he was seemingly uninvolved in the major investigation Inquisitor Julion had been leading. And the Interrogator doubted that his envious daughter would be planning to unleash catastrophe upon the world to claim the title of governance no matter how psychotic she may be.

Such ambitions would usually be realised through subterfuge, or through a Chaos cult drawing those who believed they were slighted in. Not through usage of some of the most devastating xenos to exist.

"Third question: why did you bring me here? Why have your tithes to Terra been halted? Are there any activities undertaken by your family that are not in compliance with Imperial law?" he pressed, seeking to extract every last drop of potentially useful information from the Camellia patriarch despite most likely already knowing the answers.

The man shuddered beneath him, the stench of his sweat and fear repulsive. Aurelius had always been sensitive to physical sensations, perhaps because the emotive ones were so deadened, and compelled to the fore by his spiking adrenaline they provided an unpleasant accompaniment to the interrogation.

Across the many worlds of the Imperium, the Inquisition – sans those of a particularly Puritan bent – largely turned a blind eye to the activities of the ruling classes. So long as the planet, or system, in question provided their tithes and stability was maintained as best it could be the Holy Ordos were content in the nobles partaking in whatever non-sanctioned vices suited them best.

In an ideal galaxy, all depravities and sins that were gateways to greater heresy would have been forbidden, a tight leash of control employed lest the Great Enemy sink its claws into those straying too far from the light. Practically, it would be an incredible waste of an Inquisitor's time to investigate such minor perversions when overall order was upheld.

Aurelius wasn't seeking the more prosaic debaucheries permitted to the powerful – his situation, vile as it was, wouldn't be sufficient indictment to requisite Maximlus's removal. He wanted knowledge of more, pleasure cults deviating from the Imperial faith, and was banking on the man's fear to obtain that.

Julion had, after all, come to the Karvonis system after tithes to the Throneworld had suddenly ceased, a regular sign of an impending quiet secession from Imperial rule, and their months of investigation that had uncovered the numerous links between Camellia (and thus its infestation of the administrative infrastructure) and the heretical Red Eye gang.

"I – forgive me, please, I wasn't intending to hurt you, just – my urges …" Maximlus cringed away, tapering off, swallowing thickly, "House Camellia is loyal to the God-Emperor, it was Johnast's decree we would stop the tithes – he said they would be spent better here. As-as for law, we partake in the pleasure district, I can't speak for the rest of my family, but I think we remain within Imperial law."

 _Liar._

Aurelius remained motionless. Maximlus's breaths were short, pitiful little things, his eyes blown wide as he stared at the Interrogator, tremors of fear rippling across his large frame the only movement in the room.

His certainty of that fact wasn't gleaned from anything in particular Maximlus had done. The Camellia had vomited his words out as usual, perhaps a modicum faster, though that in itself could have been a result of him steadily inching towards expiration from exposure to the Null's power.

He just _knew_. All evidence pointed towards Maximlus having cognisance of every family member's situation, pulling the strings behind the great House as its esteemed patriarch.

The truth would be revealed, at any rate. Aurelius didn't want to kill Maximlus, though it would doubtlessly rid the galaxy of one more evil soul and improve the lives of any future youngsters amongst Camellia's catering staff. No, severing the head of Camellia would put the House on too high an alert.

He didn't even wish to inflict any lasting harm – quantifiable physical harm, at any rate. But he would, if he had to.

A few seconds passed. Maximlus's breaths became more strained, his fingers twisted in the bed sheets uncurling and beginning to scrabble for purchase once more, although he made no moves to unseat Aurelius.

"What do you want from me?" he half-sobbed, half-gurgled, tears rolling down his flabby cheeks. Aurelius gently traced his fingers along them, nothingness etched across flesh unwelcoming of its cold embrace. His hands intensified the oblivion of soul, as if symbolising his intent to afflict it onto others rather than unwittingly distressing them with his aura.

"The truth, Maximlus. That is all I have wanted."

He cupped the man's face in his palms, depressing it slightly. They seemed so small compared to it, compared to Maximlus's own, and Aurelius dug in his fingers as he forcefully erased the false image of them pinned beneath the larger man's hands.

 _I'm in control._

Maximlus opened his mouth to scream. All that came out was a pained gasp, a hoarse rattle, and he thrashed as if Aurelius had begun peeling his flesh from the bone.

The Interrogator counted three seconds before pulling back, returning to his former position of hands lightly resting on the man's shoulders.

"It – it wasn't just Johnast. All of us were in on it. Holding back the tithes meant we could consolidate our influence through Enchellus, and had more funds to deal with the Red Eyes," the whispered words flowed out as if Maximlus was no longer in control of his vocal faculties, "Red-EX holds all the power in the upper hive. I don't take it, I have … other desires, but those many who do say that nothing compares to the sensation – drug or otherwise.

"We have plans to distribute it, first across the system, then the subsector. Enough to hook other hives, other worlds, and force them to depend upon us. It would be unprecedented wealth for House Camelia. But those plans are decades away, at best. That's all I know. I promise to you, that's all of it."

Aurelius believed him.

He let the man squirm for a few seconds more, aware his life was slipping away with every moment spent touching the Pariah – just in case Maximlus felt it prudent to add any more. The man's eyes, having lost any hint of the lasciviousness which had filled them, drooped, their frantic blinking gradually replaced by a more sedate closure.

Aurelius nodded curtly, before sliding a hand around the man's large throat, pressing the windpipe slightly, "I am going to return to my clothes now. If you scream for help, or do anything other than lie here silently, your life will end. Do you understand?"

Maximlus nodded frantically as Aurelius gracefully slid off of him, breathing a short sigh but otherwise remaining quiet. The boy reached into the left pocket of his abandoned trousers, retrieving a small container holding three smaller glass vials.

Estimating the interrogation to have taken roughly two and a half minutes, Aurelius gently extracted two of the vials, their unnaturally azure contents glistening a strange ochre in the wan lighting.

He returned to the bedside, noting but not outwardly acknowledging the way the aristocrat flattened himself into the bedsheets – as if to retreat from him as much as possible without disobeying his command not to move.

"Take these. It will erase your memory of this event. Don't resist," he flicked open the first lid, holding open the man's mouth and pouring the millimetres of psychoviral down his throat. Maximlus gagged, exacerbated by Aurelius forcing the other few drops down, his eyes spinning wildly and the veins on his forehead popping.

He spasmed, drool running down his chin and his limbs contorting.

Psychoviral-mediated erasure of newly-formed memories was, to put it lightly, a dangerous procedure at best. Crystals harvested from _Pseunsomnat_ _androphisa_ flowers by mind-wiped servitors were purified through several layers of extraction and distillation via the last remaining Sublimation-Shrine on the classified world of Andra Prime until they could become safe for unaugmented humans to even breathe in the vicinity of.

Diluted to such an extreme degree, anything more than a minimal application of the psychovirals could tear identities asunder, remove decades of mental connections and development and leave their victims as crippled wrecks. That, or their victims would forget essential processes – such as how to breathe.

Aurelius counted the seconds as the man became still, matching that count to the rise and fall of his chest. Measured expertly by their now dead medicae and toxicologist Emilia alongside the precision of Maratha, each vial contained enough dissolved crystal to remove exactly ninety seconds of memory from the ingestee – and around half that much time of consciousness.

Had he been more efficient with his interrogation, he would have been able to utilise the code he remembered to exit the room and leave Maximlus with no recollection of what had occurred or how he had found his way to this bed – or even redress himself.

Aurelius was tempted anyway, now that he had as much information as he was likely to extract from this gathering of the ruling class. Yet such would have been sloppy, leaving the Camellia patriarch with knowledge he had brought the blonde upstairs and into this compromising position and then a suspicious hole in his mind.

With how he had performed less than admirably so far into his short career as Interrogator, Aurelius wanted a perfect operation, no trace that the Inquisition had infiltrated this close to their enemy – even it that meant remaining with someone who had clearly possessed less than pleasant plans for him.

He waited, silently, as the man's breaths returned to a steady, natural rhythm, before plastering on his best half-concerned, half-terrified expression as the patriarch's eyes snapped open once again.

"My – my lord?" he stuttered, forcing a gulp when Maximlus's beady eyes again passed over his naked form. The man gave a phlegmy, rasping cough, doubling over and clutching his head for a moment.

"What the fuck is going on? Have I been unconscious?" he demanded, pushing himself upright in the bed and levelling a glare at the boy, stringy spittle hanging from his lips. "Well, speak, or are you too stupid to do even that?"

"You-you just collapsed, sir," Aurelius stammered, to which the older snarled, "So why in the name of damn Terra have you just been standing there? Why haven't you got help?"

Aurelius motioned meekly towards the locked door, hitching his breath for effect, Maximlus's smouldering temper no doubt induced by the splitting headache of mental intrusion subsiding somewhat.

"I couldn't get out," the blonde babbled. Maximlus raised an eyebrow, growling, "Yes, I can see that, thank you."

A short silence fell. The Camellia's ragged breathing slowly quietened, his gaze unfocused.

"Can I-"

"Yes, put them back on," the man waved a dismissive hand, frustration bubbling in his tone, all salacious lust replaced with annoyance and concern for himself. "Go fetch someone who knows how to provide any modicum of aid."

Aurelius nodded rapidly, turning to the discarded pile of his clothes and dressing as fast as he could, very aware of Maximlus's eyes still on him.

 _Though I couldn't extract a perfect admission of guilt, I have uncovered more leads. I do truly believe Kariyen is at least in part very likely one of the masterminds of the Enslaver plot._

As he compiled the knowledge from Maximlus's panicked confessions into a more logical, coherent mental form and fiddled with the straps of his belt, Aurelius didn't correlate the creaking of the bed and its sudden ceasing with anything until fabric was looped around his throat and he was shoved against the wall.

" _What-_ " he was choked off, a large hand twisting him around to face the hate-filled expression of Maximlus and the other balled in his tie above his head. His own instantly gripped the cloth digging hard into his throat, easing the pressure slightly.

"You did this to me, didn't you?" the man hissed, his faces inches away from Aurelius's own. His breath stank of expensive wine, and the blonde would have turned his head away if that wouldn't have meant inadvertently tightening the tie.

He repressed the automatic instinct to slam his foot into the highborn's groin and fingers into his eye, reacting again as a scared serving boy with no combat training would, pulling at the constricting fabric.

 _I am still in control._

Aurelius frantically shook his head, voice a scared whine, "Please, sir, I never-"

"I knew there was something wrong with you, ever since I saw you. I was blinded by how pretty I thought you would look underneath me," Maximlus's own words dripped with disgust as he lifted the makeshift noose higher, cutting off the teen's pleading, "You made me sick, didn't you, you wretched little thing."

" _No-"_

Maximlus pulled harder, hoisting Aurelius so that their eyes were level and his feet were off the ground. He felt his head begin to pound as oxygen and blood was cut off, eyes blurring and feet involuntarily kicking, heartbeat maddeningly echoing in his skull.

 _I'm in control, I'm in control …_ he repeated once more even as another part of him howled to take action before he was too weak to.

Black spots danced before his eyes as he clawed at the strangling tie, anything to ease up the strain on his windpipe. It was a much slower route to asphyxiation than the crushing path Samias had taken with him in their fight that seemed so long ago now, though perhaps even more unpleasant.

"You're _disgusting._ I don't know how I ignored it. You're a revolting, vile, pathetic creature. You don't deserve to be in my presence, you don't deserve to be in anyone's presence, you perversion of humanity. I'd do this with my hands but I can't even bear to touch your mutant flesh."

Aurelius felt saliva dripping down his own cheeks as he was choked, his initial intentionally forced panic that had become very real oxygen-deprived defiance now turning to a sort of dark acceptance.

 _I'm … in … control …_

"I should kill you right here. I don't think anyone would care. Nobody could love something like you. In fact, I'd be doing the galaxy a favour, ridding it of the likes of you," Maximlus's hissed words barely registered in Aurelius's head, present, yet impossibly distant. Even his hatred-fuelled visage, swelling with revulsion, was a backdrop to the black spots dancing beneath his eyelids. He widened his eyes, refusing to succumb to the impetus to close them, wracked by a convulsive gasp that had him spasming for air.

"Yes, that's it. Die, die, _die."_

Aurelius was released with a sudden influx of oxygen, crashing hard to the floor and sucking in a desperate, heady inhalation. He almost wanted to laugh, to cry out with pleasure at the sensation of being able to breathe again before a fist crashed into his face.

Still delirious from another near-death through choking, the Interrogator could barely put up any defence as a foot crunched hard into his stomach.

"You're nothing but a freak!" Maximlus roared, Aurelius doubling over and coughing as another booted kick slammed into his side.

The boy let out a pained sob, twisting away from his attacker and attempting to huddle up to protect his vulnerable parts.

 _I'm still in control, just have to get through this…_

Aurelius released a very real scream as the Camellia's boot stamped down hard on his knee, the man crushing it with all of his weight. It was released in time for a fist to assault the back of his head, bouncing it off the floor.

The Interrogator could taste the coppery tang of blood on his tongue, breathing heavily and curling in on himself. It was the most fundamental rule of fighting an opponent you couldn't hope to defeat – curl in on oneself and use the limbs to defend the organs.

 _I'm in control._

As much as he tried to imagine the pain as distant, temporary, it was still very real, every cruel kick coming hard and fast as Aurelius desperately sought to retreat inside of his head.

Maximlus wasn't even forming words now, just shrieking incoherent detestation as he rained blow after blow onto the downed youth.

 _I'm in control._

A particularly brutal kick lanced into his side again, opening a crack in his already pathetic defences. Aurelius ignored the tears streaming down his face and the blood dripping from numerous grazes, clinging onto his only respite.

 _I'm in control._

"Do you like that? Do you like the pain, mutant? I should end you, put you down like the inhuman dog you are! You aren't even worth ravaging like I wanted! Go on, beg me to kill you! Beg me to end that miserable little life! I'd bet everything it would be a blessing! A blessing to everyone who has to suffer you like I did."

 _I'm in control._

Aurelius lost track of the number of individual kicks and punches he had sustained. The pain was constant, but at least it wasn't getting any worse. Its intensity only increased through repetition, not through Maximlus possessing any ability to hurt him other than some strength and bulk.

 _I'm in control._

Maximlus reached down and wrenched him over, pressing a boot down on his chest so that Aurelius could look up into his feverish, frenzied expression as the air he had barely been able to recover was crushed out of his lungs.

"Come on. Beg me for death. I'll give it to you, even though someone like you deserves nothing."

 _I'm in control._

Maximlus kicked him away, almost half-heartedly. It took Aurelius a moment to realise the tirade of physical and verbal brutality had ended, the noble unlocking the door before sitting down on the bed and holding his head in his hands.

"Go. Get out of my sight," he growled, no longer looking at Aurelius. He didn't question why the violence had abated, only acknowledged that it had. The boy staggered to his feet, a rush of blood to his skull nearly sending him tumbling, and grabbed his shirt, slinging it quickly over his head and ignoring the protestations of his aching limbs.

Aurelius stumbled out of the door, begging the weakness that now rose up after he had endured the beating to keep his cover to stay where it belonged.

 _I need to find Michael, and get out of here._

.*.*.*.

Michael turned as a slight figure appeared at the top of the stairway. He let a horrified gasp slip out, thankfully unnoticed by the table he was supposed to be serving, as he beheld a bloody and battered Aurelius slowly descending.

His face was pained, reddened by welts and blood leaking from a cut on his lip. His chin and throat were no better, covered in an angry blossom ringed round it. The blonde's tie and blazer were missing, exposing fragile forearms covered in bruises, and if the way he was holding his stomach and limping down the stairs was anything to go by the rest of his body probably wasn't any different.

Michael abandoned the tray he was holding onto the table of the guests, making his way to where Aurelius was stood at the bottom of the stairs, his usually intensely focussed yet emotionless gaze drifting, lost and … _scared_?

His eyes met Michael's as the ganger approached him, something that could almost pass for relief flashing in the glacial blue, though his bloodied lips remained still in lieu of expressing anything. The boy swept his gaze around, though no one seemed to be paying Aurelius's awful appearance any heed. A few of the nobles absently stared before returning to their conversations, whilst staff pointedly averted their eyes, engrossing themselves in whatever task was at hand with far more attention than was necessary.

"What the fuck happened up there?" he hissed, coming to a halt close to the battered

Barely a centimetre taller than the Interrogator, Michael had, since their first meeting, always perceived himself as smaller than Aurelius. He'd never been in sufficient proximity to check, the nausea blooming petals of inhuman horror within his gut, yet had been aware, rationally of their slight height difference.

The boy's unearthly shroud along with his affectation of superior indifference had magnified his presence even as it deflected from focusing on him. Even blended perfectly into the role of silent, unnoticeable attendant the blonde was adept in his desire to repel any hint of suspicious attention, with Michael following his example as best he could.

Now whatever Aurelius had experienced had diminished him. Michael's trivial edge in height was suddenly obvious, as was his minorly bulkier physique. He couldn't help but see Aurelius as vulnerable, even as that clashed with his disturbing nature.

"Outside," the other mumbled, commanding even in this state, his gaze flickering absently to the many surrounding them. Michael led the younger through the radiant, glittering galleries to the exit proper – beyond the artificial illumination of the domed Halls and back into the true outside.

He never thought he'd feel grateful for the muted grey of pollution choked skies, but couldn't help gladness at distance from the stiflingly false sunlight they had spent hours inside.

They emerged into the building's vast exterior courtyard, silver statues of Imperial heroes from a time Michael didn't know of their only company. The boys halted in the shadow of an angelic figure presenting a wreath to a kneeling man, filigree tears streaking from her eyes bronzed by the endless rain.

For the first time since they had abandoned their duties (the understanding look given by one of the overseers showing that their temporary absence was accounted for) Michael turned to gaze back at Aurelius.

A part of him had wished to keep looking back as they had walked, instinctively driven to protect by some primal drive. The other, the one that had won out, felt only revulsion at the idea. The constant gnawing in his head, repressed even to its currently weakened level, was bad enough – and at least that meant he knew Aurelius was still following.

They were alone, the only accompaniment to Aurelius's ragged breathing the trickling of water from the surrounding statues. Michael forced his eyes to focus on the blonde's own, pushing past their attempts at resistance to the boy's inexorable, empty pull.

"Aurelius, what happened?" he questioned, automatically reaching out to rest his hands on thin shoulders. The Interrogator flinched back, releasing what was almost a sob, "Please don't touch me."

Michael was taken aback by the heavy emotion in his tone, pulling away and distinctly both disturbed and angry at the begging note to Aurelius's voice. His opinion on the other hadn't solidified, resentment at his earlier betrayal of the Chrome Fangs brawling with gratefulness for leading them to safety before and distrust at his soulless form.

The notion he should somehow be comforting Aurelius in his blatant distress stood at the forefront, and could have ignored the demand had it not been filled with a pleading he hadn't ever thought could come from him.

Aurelius shut his eyes, letting the rain splash against his bruised cheeks – probably regaining his composure. Michael gave him a few seconds, clenching and unclenching his fists, before barrelling ahead, "Aurelius, you have to tell me if you're alright. I mean, you're not, fucking obviously, but – shit – are we still, ya know, safe here? Do we need to go back in? There's no way in hell I'm letting you go back."

His tone went from concerned, to somewhat panicked, to a concoction of firm and nervous.

 _Emperor's arse, pull it together Mikey. You're not the one who looks like he had the shit kicked out of him._

With some effort, Michael held back from spewing more words into the silence between them. Any of his friends or family would have quickly halted the verbal train of thought, yet Aurelius being either too detached or too shy to interrupt had let it continue for far longer than necessary.

"We've got what we came for," Aurelius murmured, clasping onto where Michael knew his vox recorder was behind his shirt, evidently unwilling to elaborate on what had transpired after the highborn had guided him upstairs.

"We getting out of here then?"

Aurelius nodded, the action causing him to wince in pain.

 _Should use words next time then, like a normal person,_ an unbidden thought slithered up and whispered vindictively into his ear. Michael frowned, attributing the sudden malice to Aurelius fiddling with his choker's crystal after they set foot outside and the headache of being in the other boy's presence pulling on his brain.

He made to move, unsure speaking would be best with the instinctive disgust at whatever mutant strain Aurelius was clouding his mind, before the Interrogator spoke up, "Just give me a moment."

Michael turned, concern warring with revulsion as he forced his eyes to linger on the blonde's battered form. With some effort, he overcame the bias in his current judgement, motioning towards the statue's plinth and sitting adjacent to Aurelius.

The boy's breathing was through clenched teeth, his hands reaching down to his white trousers and pulling up the bottom, exposing a series of large welts blemishing the slender limb. Michael watched silently as Aurelius tenderly stroked the wounds, aware that whilst no bones were broken the Interrogator probably shouldn't be walking without some assistance.

Knowing his offer of aid would fall on deaf ears, the ganger shifted his gaze, letting his eyes wander over the statue courtyard.

"I wonder who could have possibly done something so important on this world to deserve one of these," he wondered aloud, letting his mouth take over. He didn't know much, if anything, about the wider Imperium, but guessed that Hive Enchellus must have been one of the worst places in such a glorious empire.

Aurelius didn't bother replying. Michael hadn't really expected one, verbal musing more for his benefit than any forlorn hope of conversation with the other teenager.

Feeling superfluous as the Interrogator tended to his injuries as best he could with their limited resources, wanting to help but not wishing to attract Aurelius's attention nor disobey the boy's request of no contact, Michael decided to properly take in their surroundings.

It was then that he noticed something distinctly odd. They had entered this way, several hours ago, shuffling into the halls within a group of other attendants located on the monorail – mercifully in a moment without rain – permitted entry only once guards clad in the purple and black ceremonial garb of House Camelia had quickly vetted their identities and given them all a hasty pat down.

Those same guards, who had remained outside to deny entry to any bereft of an invitation, were curiously absent. Michael and Aurelius were the only souls – well, living humans – in the area, the main entrance to the Whitewater building almost welcoming.

"Aurelius," he began, watching as the boy's stare shifted from his leg to Michael, a rogue heartbeat stuttering in his chest, "Where have the guards gone?"

The Interrogator snapped his gaze around in clear surprise, obviously too distracted by his condition to have noticed in the first place.

Aurelius rose to his feet in a swift motion, Michael following his lead, urgency inflecting his usually blank tone as he said, "We need to leave. Now."

He half-limped, half-marched towards the exit of the courtyard – though that would only lead them into a highly decorated avenue stretching to the edge of the palatial district – Michael matching his slowed pace, under the eaves of sculptures that now seemed to stare accusingly down at the boys where before they were indifferent.

They rounded the corner, entering on the central path that cut straight from the outer gates to the hall's grand entrance.

Michael stopped dead.

Opposite them stood a bulky, imposing figure slinging a massive firearm underneath him that no unaugmented man could carry alone. Bandoliers of ammo covering a body clad in grey flak armour, militaristic and austere, violently clashed in aesthetic with a bright mask covered in whorls of vibrant colour that the man gazed at the boys through – eyes maniacal even at their distance.

Momentarily stunned by the figure's sudden appearance, Michael could only watch as a gloved finger was silently raised to the mask's inhuman grin before it returned to hefting the huge gun.

That trance was broken when Aurelius yanked hard on his blazer, pulling the boy back into cover.

In front of him, light and fire began to rain down the avenue, a torrent of pure destruction unleashed by the heavy weapon aimed directly at the open doors of Whitewater Halls.

And after the explosions came the screams.


End file.
